


From Rockland To Logan

by GreenHouseAvon



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-15
Updated: 2014-02-11
Packaged: 2017-12-23 13:29:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 27,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/927020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreenHouseAvon/pseuds/GreenHouseAvon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Author's Note: This idea has been bouncing around my head since Season 1. I finally broke down and started writing it. This is a complete departure from Season 1. Basically I kept the premise from the Pilot and let my imagination wander. It's a story about finding family and struggling with your place in the world.  It will be a long. There will be angst. All errors are mine and mine alone. I don't like to share.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Objection of Being Stepped On

**Author's Note:**

> Reposting this from FF.net. I'll be adding chapter two shortly, so I wanted to get this up over here beforehand. My goal is to update weekly.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own a wand from the Wizarding World of Harry Potter (It chose me), but not Once Upon a Time or any of these characters. 
> 
> Author's Note: This idea has been bouncing around my head since Season 1. I finally broke down and started writing it. This is a complete departure from Season 1. Basically I kept the premise from the Pilot and let my imagination wander. It will be a long. There will be angst. Rated T for now. All errors are mine and mine alone. I don't like to share.

 

 

_At the end of the row_

_I stepped on the toe_

_Of an unemployed hoe._

_It rose in offense_

_And struck me a blow_

_In the seat of my sense._

_It wasn't to blame_

_But I called it a name._

_And I must say it dealt_

_Me a blow that I felt_

_Like malice prepense._

_-Robert Frost_

* * *

**Henry**

 

_**Sunday October 23** _ _**rd** _ _**6:18am** _

 

Henry woke early and looked at the clock.

 

He smiled.

 

It was Sunday and his mom...

 

_No. She's Regina,_ t _he Evil Queen._

 

She wouldn't be up for another forty-five minutes. That gave him time to prepare.

 

He pushed back his covers and leaned over the side of the bed, retrieving his school bag from the tangled mess of shoes and clothing that he'd taken to tossing on the floor when he arrived home from school. Regina would chew him out for not cleaning up, but he didn't care. Contention had been their new normal. It was just easier to keep the status quo.

 

Henry emptied his bag, tucking his school books under his bed and out of site. Then he got to work gathering everything he'd need. The first (and most important) thing that went in his bag was the book. Next, a pair of jeans and long sleeve polo that Regina bought him for the coming winter. He added a few pairs of underwear and an extra ball of socks, just in case.

 

Crossing the room, Henry opened his desk drawer and reached for the small wooden box that contained his savings; eighty-seven dollars in tens, fives, and ones. He folded the money up and tucked it inside the socks he'd already packed.

 

The last items he collected were stored together in the small front compartment of his bag. They included: a printed confirmation for two bus tickets (one adult and one child), directions to Rockland, Maine, Ms. Blanchard’s credit card, and a scrap of paper that contained a very important address in Boston. He'd already memorized the location, but it couldn't hurt to have a hard copy on him.

 

He briefly considered packing his school identification card, but decided against it. If he was stopped by a police officer, he didn't want anyone contacting Regina.

 

Henry surveyed his bag. He would need to smuggle some food and water from the kitchen, but that could wait until later. He zipped up the bag and tucked it beneath his desk. Now he was ready. He climbed back into bed and waited for Regina to knock on his door.

* * *

“...And I don't want you to forget, you have an appointment with Dr. Hopper at 5 o'clock,” Regina said as she leaned across the dining room table to pick up his empty cereal bowl. “Do you want me to drive you? I can pick you up from library before your session.”

 

“It's okay. I'll take my bike,” Henry answered quickly. Regina raised an eyebrow at him. “It's a nice day,” he added with a shrug.

 

Regina sighed and headed toward the kitchen. “Let me at least make you lunch.”

 

Henry followed her, pushing down the guilt that was slowly building inside of him. It was harder to see her as the Evil Queen when she made him sandwiches. But at least now he didn't have to sneak the food out of the kitchen.

 

Regina set his bowl in the sink and went to the refrigerator. “So, what is this big project that's due tomorrow? And why haven't you mentioned it before now?”

 

Henry watched as she set salami, cheese, and mustard on the island. “We're learning about different types of energy. I have to look up how solar panels work.”

 

Regina stopped spreading mustard and looked at him, raising an eyebrow. “That's a forth grade assignment?”

 

Henry felt his ears redden. “Yup,” he lied. “Ms. Blanchard says it's really important because we're using up all our natural resources.”

 

Regina scoffed, but went back to her task. “Ms. Blanchard isn't paid to lobby alternative fuels to ten year old's.” She sighed again. “And haven't I told you not to wait until the last minute to start your assignments.”

 

Henry frowned, “I've been busy.”

 

“You've been procrastinating,” she stated. “You're getting older Henry. You need to be more responsible.” Two slices of cheese went onto the salami already on the sandwich. “Apple or carrot sticks?”

 

“Carrots,” he replied with more bite than intended. He turned to open the fridge so she wouldn't comment on his tone. He reached for a small package of carrots and two bottles of water, setting them on the counter.

 

Regina finished assembling his lunch and placed it into his Tron lunchbox. “What do you want for dinner tonight?”

 

“I don't know. Anything's fine.” His smile was more of a grimace, but thankfully, she didn't seem to notice.

 

“Call if Dr. Hopper can't drive you home after your session. You can leave your bike at his office. I don't want you riding after dark.”

 

“Okay,” he said as he grabbed his lunch box and rushed out of the kitchen. “Bye!”

 

“Henry, what have I told you about running in the house!” If she said anything else he didn't hear it as he grabbed his school bag and pulled open the front door. Once outside he let out a deep breath.

 

Phase one was complete.

* * *

 

Henry stopped his bike in front of the 'Welcome to Storybrooke' sign. He knew he wouldn't be stopped -- Regina took him to Portland every forth of July to watch the fireworks -- but still the invisible line gave him pause. If it was anyone else trying to leave...

 

_I can cross because I was never cursed._

 

He held his breath and moved forward, his bike rolling quickly over the line and away from Storybrooke. He pushed hard on the pedals and didn't look back.

 

Rockland was five miles from Storybrooke and he wasn't sure how fast he could get there on his bike. As he raced along the shoulder of route 22, he let himself imagine that he was a prince, riding a mighty steed, on a great quest to save a princess.

 

If he thought about it, he sort of was.

* * *

 

Henry was starting to panic. The ride to Rockland had only taken him 45 minutes, but he hadn't anticipated any difficulty in finding the bus terminal. It was now 11:38. The coach to Boston would be leaving at noon and he still needed to pick up the tickets. He double checked the address. He was at the correct intersection. This had to be the right spot, but all he saw was a large marina parking lot and a hotel... or maybe that was an apartment building. He contemplated asking someone for help, but decided that was too risky.

 

He brushed away the beads of perspiration that were working their way down the side of his face. He felt conspicuous sitting on his bike with his sweat stained shirt and oversized backpack. It was unseasonably warm for late October and he'd already removed his light jacket.

 

Henry maneuvered his bike toward the parking lot, looking for a place to lock it.

 

The sidewalk was busy with locals and tourists returning from early morning fishing trips. Henry wove his way through the crowd and spotted a rack near the marina office. He settled his bike into a free space and wrapped a brand new, thick bike lock through both tires and the strap of his helmet. He didn't want to carry that with him to Boston.

 

As Henry stood up, he noticed a blue bus pulling into the parking lot. He let out a relieved sigh. The lettering on the bus was faded, but he could make out 'Concord Coach Lines' clearly on the side. He checked to make sure his bike was secure and took off at a jog toward the bus. It stopped not far away. So he waited and watched as the door hissed open and the driver stepped off. The man wore a pale blue uniform and walked with a slight limp that reminded Henry of Mr. Gold. The driver opened the bus' side panel and stepped back as several disembarking passengers shuffled forward to claim their luggage.

 

Henry followed the man through a poorly marked entrance that could only be the bus terminal ticket office. Once inside, he surveyed the room spotting the ticket window on the far wall. The line was short with just a few people ahead of him.

 

He looked around for the bathroom, spotting it quickly. It was tucked into the corner of the room, a line forming from the passengers that had just left the bus. He watched them and smiled when he spotted a tall, thirty-something, brunette woman.

 

“Next!”

 

Henry stepped forward and handed off the ticket confirmation that he'd printed.

 

The middle-aged woman behind the window accepted the slip, glancing down at Henry. “You're alone?”

 

Henry shook his head. He turned and pointed at the tall brunette who was just stepping into the bathroom. “That's my mom. She asked me to get the tickets.”

 

The woman looked uncertain as her eyes fell to the growing line behind Henry. “Look kid, she'll have to come over. I need the credit card she used to buy the tickets.”

 

“Oh, she gave it to me.” Henry passed Ms. Blanchard's credit card through the small opening at the base of the window, a large smile plastered on his face.

 

The women hesitated for only another moment before proceeding to print his tickets. With the passes in hand, Henry quickly scampered off before the woman could question him further. He stepped outside and waited for the driver to return to the bus. He felt a little bit bad that he'd wasted the money for the second ticket -- especially after using Ms. Blanchard's credit car to pay for the adoption website -- but Henry had known they would question a ten year old traveling alone. He was also pretty sure Ms. Blanchard would understand, at least once she remembered who she really was.

 

A short time later the bus driver returned, calling out, “Now boarding for Logan International Airport with stops in Waldoboro, Bath, Portland, and Boston's South Station.”

 

Henry tucked the adult ticket out of sight into his jeans pocket and joined the queue. The tall brunette had returned and he ducked behind her in line. Smile in place, he stepped onto the bus and handed off his ticket. The driver took it without question, allowing Henry to pass him.

 

The bus was cool and Henry thought the air smelled vaguely like the couch in Archie's office. He found a window seat halfway down the isle and removed his backpack, leaving it on the seat next to him. Leaning back into the cushioned chair he smiled. Phase two was now complete. He would be in Boston by 5 o'clock. When he didn't show up for therapy, Dr. Hopper would probably call Regina to ask if she had kept him home. But it would be too late. He would be in Boston by then and she'd have no way of knowing where he was. He'd already deleted all his emails and the bus tickets were purchased from a computer at the school's library. He was free and clear. He smiled at the thought and took out his storybook, opening to the page that explained the curse.

 

“Final call for Logan International Airport,” the driver reported over the buses PA system.

 

A moment later Henry felt the vehicle lurch forward.

 

Phase two was complete.

 

Finally, he was on his way.

 

After a few minutes he took out his lunch and ate as the bus sped away from Rockland. Soon the tinted window's offered nothing but Maine's scenic coastline to hold his attention. He let his mind wonder.

 

He wondered if the Evil Queen chose Maine because it looked like the Enchanted Forest. He wondered if his birth mother already knew about the curse. But most of all, he wondered what Emma Swan looked like.

 

_I hope she has my eyes._

* * *

 

Henry got off the bus at Boston's South Station. He found his way outside easily enough and spotted several cabs parked along the terminal exit. He stepped forward to the closest one and knocked on the window.

 

The driver looked over and rolled down the glass. “Yeah?”

 

“Do you take credit cards?” Henry asked. Thanks to the lunch that Regina had packed, he hadn't spent any of his cash, but he had no idea how much this cab ride was going to cost.

 

“Where to chief?”

 

“36 Kneeland Street.”

* * *

 

The ride was shorter then he expected. He paid the driver with a ten and two ones, figuring he shouldn't use Ms. Blanchard's credit card anymore if he could avoid it. The door to Emma's building was locked, but there was a grid of call buttons next to the door. He knew her apartment number was 205. His pulse sped up. He was about to meet his birth mother; a real life fairytale princess who would bring back all the happy endings.

 

Henry stepped up to the door and pushed the button that would buzz Emma's apartment.

 

No answer.

 

He tried again.

 

Still nothing.

 

Henry frowned. He hadn't expected this. Where was she? It was 5:30 at night one a Sunday. Regina was always home at this time. He let out a frustrated sigh and plopped down on the stairs that led to the building.

 

He only had to wait for a few minutes. A tall man with a briefcase came by and unlocked the door. Henry sneaked in behind him and hung back in the lobby examining a wall of mail boxes. The man stepped on an elevator and Henry cautiously followed, waiting for the doors to close. Once he heard the elevator begin rise he hit the call button and waited.

 

Two minutes later he was standing outside Emma Swan's apartment. He was about to knock when he noticed a door bell. Pushing that instead, he waiting. The bell was loud enough to hear in the hallway, but no one answered the door. He couldn't hear any movement within the apartment.

 

At least he knew she wasn't ignoring him.

 

He shuffled down the hall back to the elevators. He sat down on the floor, his eyes fixed on Emma's door waiting for her to come home.

* * *

 

At 8:15pm a woman in a tight pink dress stepped off the elevator. She was carrying a small box and limping slightly. Henry had seen Regina walk like that after walking all day in heels.

 

Despite the limp, the woman was down the hall in a flash. He caught sight of her face as she turned to face apartment 205. Scrambling to his feet, he called out to her, “Emma?”

 

The door closed before he got the word out and he waited to see if she'd open it again, but she didn't. She hadn't heard him.

 

Henry grabbed his bag and raced to the door.

 

He rang the bell twice.

 

She took only moment to answer it. Expecting someone her own height she paused and then looked down at him. “Can I help you?

 

“Are you Emma Swan?”

 

“Yeah. Who are you?”

 

“My name's Henry.” He stated with pride, “I'm your son.”

 

He wasn't expecting the door to slam in his face.

 

[to be continued]


	2. The Road Not Taken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: This idea has been bouncing around my head since Season 1. I finally broke down and started writing it. This is a complete departure from Season 1. Basically I kept the premise from the Pilot and let my imagination wander. It's a story about finding family and struggling with your place in the world. It will be a long. There will be angst. All errors are mine and mine alone. I don't like to share.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to clarify, each chapter will be written from a specific characters perspective. Emma's perspective will be featured heavily early on, though I will be alternating chapters between her and other characters. Regina will be featured heavily as well, though not until a little bit later in the story.

* * *

_Then took the other, as just as fair_

_And having perhaps the better claim,_

_Because it was grassy and wanted wear;_

_Though as for that, the passing there_

_Had worn them really about the same,_

_And both that morning equally lay_

_In leaves no step had trodden black._

_Oh, I kept the first for another day!_

_Yet knowing how way leads on to way,_

_I doubted if I should ever come back._

 

_-Robert Frost_

* * *

 

**Emma**

 

_**Sunday October 23** **th** **8:17pm** _

 

Emma rested her head against the cool, painted wood. “You have got to be kidding me,” she breathed.

 

_Shit._

 

The door swung open once more. The kid standing in front of her looked devastated. He'd clearly been looking for a warmer reception; which only added to Emma's uneasiness.

 

“Look kid... I'm sorry,” she hedged. “You caught me off guard, but... I think you've made a mistake. I'm no ones mom.”

 

“But you are!” he insisted, a panic settling in on his face.

 

Emma peered into the hall. “Where are your parents?”

 

The boy ignored her question. “Ten years ago you gave up baby for adoption. That was me.” Emma reflexively took a step back, but the kid plowed forward either oblivious or unconcerned of her obvious discomfort. “I was born on July 7th 2001 in Phoenix, Arizona. I stayed with a foster family for three weeks until I was...”

 

“Alright, that's enough. Come in.” She reached for his shoulder and guided him inside. A quick look in the hall told her that none of her neighbors were lurking about. She closed the door and maneuvered him into the small dimly lit living area. 

 

“Sit,” she commanded.

 

The kid removed his backpack and set it down by on the coffee table. Emma sized him up as he plopped down on the stiff leather chair that came with the apartment. He wore a thin, dark brown jacket over a red plaid shirt. His jeans and sneakers looked pretty new. Whoever his parents were, they clearly had enough money to buy him proper clothes.

 

“So...” She needed more information. “Henry?”

 

He nodded.

 

“You're either a very good liar, or you're actually my...” Emma couldn't finish that thought. She tried not to think about the boy that she'd given up. And when she did, she always pictured the tiny bundle she'd held only once. In her mind, her son was still a baby swaddled tightly in a blue hospital blanket. He certainly wasn't the ten year old kid that was currently staring at her with Neal's eyes.

 

_Nope. Not going there._

 

Avoiding any further thoughts of her ex, the investigator in her took over. “How did you even find me?”

 

“The internet,” he replied simply. “I used a website.”

 

So much for sealed adoption records _._ Emma rubbed her forehead. “Alright, and where do you live?”

 

Henry hesitated for a few seconds. “Storybrooke.”

 

“Massachusetts?”

 

“Maine.”

 

“Maine!” That was a surprise. “How did you get here?”

 

“A bus.”

 

_What the hell?!_

 

“Do you know how dangerous that is?”

 

The boy had the decency to look apologetic. “I really needed to find you.”

 

Emma felt her stomach drop several feet. She was not comfortable with his tone. It was so... desperate. Suddenly a hundred unpleasant possibilities were flying past her minds eye -- none of them what she wanted for the baby that she'd given up. Her eyes quickly scanned the boy. He looked healthy enough. No obvious bruises. “Henry, look at me.” Her eyes were soft as they met his. “You ran away.” It wasn't a question. “What happened? Why did you leave your parents?”

 

He shook his head. “It's just Regina... my mom. I can't tell you everything. I thought... that you might know already but you don't and... I don't know if I should tell you yet.”

 

Emma frowned as she dropped to one knee in front of him, bringing herself to his eye level. This wasn't going to be an easy question but she needed to know. “Henry this is really important. I need you to be honest with me. Does your mom hurt you? Hit you?”

 

“No,” he answer quickly. His gaze dropped to the floor. “But she...”

 

“What?”

 

“She doesn't love me.”

 

Emma released the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. “Aw, kid. Of course she loves you. She's your mom.”

 

He glared back at her with disbelief. “She doesn't. She just pretends to.”

 

_Well shit._

 

The kid was staring at her now with such need that Emma had to look away. In that moment she knew exactly why the boy had crossed two state lines to find her. He wanted a new mother. She stood up abruptly. “I... need a minute. Have you ah... did you eat?”

 

A low growl from his stomach answered the question for her. “Come on. Let's see what I've got in the fridge.”

* * *

 

She closed the door to her bedroom and locked it. The kid was currently perched on a bar stool in her kitchen, consuming an impossibly large bowl of Fruit Loops. Away from his pleading eyes, Emma allowed herself to truly panic. She'd always known it was possible that her son might one day show up on her doorstep, angry and hurt and brimming with abandonment issues. But in her mind he had been older -- in his late twenties getting ready to start a family of his own. She would make him coffee and then listen to the story of his life, hoping against hope that it was better than the one she could have offered him. She would do her best to explain why she gave him up. And then he would go, the visit having been about closure and not a quest for a new mom.

 

“Emma?” His voice carried through the door. “Are you going to eat this cupcake?”

 

_What the hell am I going to do?_

 

“Go for it kid,” she shouted back at him.

 

_Some birthday this turned out to be._

 

Deciding that she should probably change out of her dress before facing the kid again, Emma went to her closest. She quickly changed into her favorite pair of black jeans. Grabbing a faded gray long sleeve shirt, Emma thought about the best course of action. As upset as the kid seemed to be, he looked healthy and unharmed. It broke her heart that he was apparently so unhappy at home, but he certainly wasn't better off with her.

 

A glance at the clock told her it was just after 8:30. The kids mom was probably freaking her shit out right now. He said they lived in Maine. A town called Storybook... no Storybrooke. He hadn't given her a last name. Emma reached for her phone. Her best bet was to call the local police. She dialed 411.

 

“Information, how may I assist you,” a much too cheerful voice answered.

 

“Yeah, I'm looking for a number in Maine,” Emma explained. “I need the police or sheriff station for Storybrooke.”

 

The sound of typing could be heard on the other end. “I have it. Would you like me to give you the number or connect you directly?”

 

“I better write it down. One sec.” Emma moved to her nightstand and grabbed a pen and pad. “Go ahead.”

 

She quickly jotted down the number and thanked the operator.

 

It took only two rings before a man's voice answered with a quick, “Sheriff Humbert.” He sounded exhausted... and British. Emma could make out a woman's voice in the background.

 

“Uh hi,” Emma wondered how best to put this. “About fifteen minutes ago a kid named Henry knocked on my door. He says he's from your town. Storybrooke?”

 

“He's there!?” The British Sheriff exclaimed. “Is he okay?”

 

Before she could answer, Emma heard what could only be a struggle for the phone.

 

After a few brief seconds, a stern female voice filled her ear. “With whom am I speaking?”

 

“Uh, Swan. Emma Swan,” she clarified. “I take it you're Henry's mother.”

 

“Yes. Regina Mills.” Her voice wavered a tiniest bit. “Is he okay?”

 

“Yeah, he's fine.”

 

Emma heard a soft sigh through the phone. When Regina Mill's spoke again her voice was much softer. “Thank you for finding him. Do you live off route 22? He knows he's not supposed to ride his bike out of Storybrooke, but he has a tendency to...”

 

“Actually...” Emma cut her off. “He's in Boston.”

 

The line was quiet for a moment.

 

“Ms. Mills?”

 

“It's Mayor Mills, actually.” The stern voice was back. “I'm sorry, did you say that he's in Boston. What could he possibly be doing in Boston?”

 

_Mayor Mills. Well that's just perfect._

 

Emma had hoped to avoid this entirely. “Well,” she hedged. “He um... came looking for me.”

 

“And who are you, exactly?”

 

Emma contemplated lying, but she got the distinct impression that Regina Mills would be checking up on her. And if Henry had been able to track her down, his mother the Mayor would certainly discover the truth. She reasoned it was best to just rip off this band aid right now. “I'm his birth mother.”

 

Had she not been able to hear a questioning male tone in the background, Emma would have thought the phone had disconnected. It was during that near deafening silence -- during which she thought she might have heard the sound of teeth grinding -- that it occurred to Emma that perhaps she had just bestowed upon this woman, her worst nightmare. Her adopted son didn't want her.

 

_Oops._

 

“I didn't,” Emma attempted.

 

“Ms. Swan,” the Mayor's voice allowed no room for negotiation. “I'll need your address. I'm coming to get my son.”

 

Emma didn't fail to notice the emphasis that the other woman placed on 'my son.' She sighed, “Look, Reg... Mayor Mills. It's almost 9 o'clock. Am I right in assuming that Henry has school tomorrow?”

 

“You are.”

 

“Right, and you probably have a lot of important... Mayoring to do. You said you live near route 22. That's by the coast, right? I've been up that way a few times for... work. That's at least a three and a half hour trip. If you drive down here you won't get back home til the morning.” Emma let the woman digest that for a moment.

 

“What do you propose?” The Mayor made it sound like Emma was presenting a masters thesis.

 

“I'll drive him back there tonight. We'll get there before one o'clock. I'll say goodbye and be out of your hair.” When the boy's mother didn't respond, Emma added, “You'll never have to see me again.”

 

“Very well Ms. Swan. I'll expect you in a few hours.”

 

Emma heard the Sheriff asking a question in the background.

 

“Ms. Swan, put Henry on the phone,” the boy's mother demanded. “Please,” she added as an afterthought.

 

“Yeah, of course. Hold on.”

 

Emma unlocked her door and swung it open. Henry was still at the counter, a large leather bound book open in front of him. “Henry, your mother's on the phone.” She held out her cell phone.

 

The look of betrayal the boy shot her was jarring. He slammed his book shut.

 

“Come on kid, don't be like that.” Emma sighed. “I had to call her. She was really worried.”

 

Henry took the phone and turned away from her. “Hi mom,” he said, sounding so small.

 

Emma could hear the Mayor's voice. It was muffled, but it didn't sound like she was yelling at the boy.

 

“Yeah, I know. I'm sorry.” The kid hung his head a little as the woman on the phone continued. “I will,” he said, bringing his gaze back to Emma. “Okay.” He held out the phone. “She wants your cell phone number.”

 

Emma took back the phone and recited her digits. She then copied down the Mayor's number, before assuring the woman they'd be leaving right away. 

* * *

 

They'd been in the car for almost two hours and Henry still hadn't said a word. Not even to complain about Emma's impressive collection of 90's female rock. She contemplated forcing the issue by digging out her favorite Alanis Morisette album, but decided on a more direct approach. She killed the volume of The Bug's sound system and began, “So you're not going to say anything?”

 

The kid didn't react, choosing instead to fix his gaze on the darkened Maine landscape.

 

They passed Portland in silence. Emma flipped on the windshield wipers as a light rain splattered her aging Beetle. “Here's the thing, Henry. I know you were hoping for a different reaction when you knocked on my door. But you have to understand, I'm not exactly parent material. Besides, your mom... she's done a pretty good job taking care of you up to this point.”

 

That earned Emma a reaction. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the indignation on his face. Finally he spoke, “You don't know anything.”

 

“I know you're taken care of. You've got nice clothes. You don't have to worry about where your next meal is comin' from.” For as bitchy has Emma gathered Regina Mills could be, she'd certainly done right by the kid. She clearly cared. And really, that was all Emma could have hoped for.

 

The boy sighed, “You don't understand.”

 

“Well kid, we're about an hour and a half out from Storybrooke. You've got that long to explain it to me.” Emma paused for a moment before adding, “After I drop you off, I'm heading straight back to Boston.” It was best not to get the kids hopes up for a prolonged visit. She took on a serious tone as she continued, “And they'll be no more bus trips to find me. Do you know how many sociopaths there are out there? You could have been killed.” Emma left off the, 'or worse'.

 

He considered her words for a moment, finally coming to some kind of decision. He reached forward and extracted that large leather bound book he'd been reading in her kitchen.

 

“What's that?” she questioned, her eyes still locked on the dreary road.

 

“My family history,” he said simply. Emma glanced down at him as he flipped through the pages. She thought she could make out a colorful illustration of a witch in a black dress, swirling purple smoke billowing around her.

 

Henry went on, “Everything in this book is true... it all really happened.”

 

“It looks like a book of fairy tales?”

 

“It is. But they're real. All these fairy tales actually happened. You have to believe me.” He looked so afraid.

 

“I'll try, Henry.” She could feel his eyes on her, accusing her of disbelief. “Just walk me through this, okay?”

* * *

 

On reflection, Emma was pretty sure that in her entire life she had never opened such a large can of worms. Big. Fat. Worms. While she didn't regret getting the kid to open up, she did wonder if it would have been a better idea to ask him about his favorite super hero. All kids liked super hero's, right? Instead, she'd been subjected to an hour and fifteen minute lecture on the history of a parallel universe where fairy tales were real and somehow all their stories were interconnected.

 

“I don't get it,” This book was really confusing. “So your mother, the Evil Queen from Snow White, is somehow related to the Queen of Hearts, from Alice in Wonderland?”

 

Henry nodded.

 

“How does that work exactly? I thought the Red Queen was from Wonderland, not Fairy Tale Land.”

 

Henry rolled his eyes and shook his head, as if she'd said the stupidest thing imaginable.

 

“It's not called Fairy Tale Land, it's the Enchanted Forest. And I'm talking about the Queen of Hearts, not the Red Queen. Those are two different people,” he stated as if that were the most obvious thing in the world. Which world, Emma wasn't really sure. He went on, “And the Evil Queen banished her mother to Wonderland. That's a separate world.”

 

“So now they're two other worlds?”

 

“There are a lot more than that.” He began counting them off on his fingers, “There's also Neverland. The Land Without Color. The Middle Kingdom. The Land of Oz.”

 

“And you're mom cursed all of them?”

 

He thought on that for a moment. “I don't think all of them. I'm not really sure about that though.”

 

“Maybe you should ask her?” Emma smiled, though Henry didn't seem to find it particularly funny. “Okay here's a question. If the curse pulled people from different stories... different worlds, then why wasn't this world cursed.” She thought perhaps she shouldn't be indulging him, but it was kind of an interesting idea. She would be proud of his imagination if she wasn't more concerned about him actually believing all this.

 

“Duh Emma, there's no magic here.”

 

“Sorry. I should have known.” She couldn't stop the smile that spread across her face. For some reason, Emma's heart warmed at the way that he had said her name. She buried that thought quickly.

 

The rain had let up enough for Emma to crack open the windows a little. The sea air assaulted her nostrils as they rolled past a sign that read: 'Welcome to Storybrooke.' “You're going to have to guide me from here, kid.”

 

Thankfully he didn't give her a hard time, simply directing them through the empty small town streets. Once they turned onto Miflin street, the Mayor's house wasn't hard to spot.

 

“Everything's going to be alright, kid.” Emma offered as she put the car into park.

 

“You don't know that.” He closed his book and stared down at the golden lettering.

 

“You can trust me.” She unhooked her seat belt. “Come on, your mom's waiting.”

 

They both stepped out of the car and headed up the walk. Emma glanced back and noticed the boy had left his storybook sitting on the passenger seat. “Wait, you left your book.”

 

“You should keep it. You're the one who needs to believe.” He turned and walked toward the front door.

 

Before Emma could reply, said front door opened.

 

“Henry!” The boy's mother rushed forward and pulled him into her arms. He allowed the hug, but did not move to reciprocate the embrace. “I was so worried.” The Mayor pulled back and examined the boy, no doubt checking for any injuries.

 

Emma took a few seconds to appraise the boy's mother. She was younger than expected, for a mayor. And now that Emma thought about it, she was really young for someone who adopted a baby ten years ago; she would've been in her early twenties when she brought Henry home. Emma guessed the older woman was no stranger to Botox. And then there was the clothes. She was dressed like she just stepped out of a Neiman Marcus catalog.

 

_Who is this woman?_

 

Emma couldn't stop staring. Seriously, what mom wore heals like that at 1:15 in the morning? On a school night no less.

 

“I take it that you are Ms. Swan?” Their eye's locked. Emma found them unreadable. “Why don't you come in.”

 

Before Emma could reply, the older woman was guiding her son into the house.

 

“Yeah. Sure.”

 

“Would you like me to stay as well, Madame Mayor,” called a male voice. Emma looked up to see Sheriff... Hubbert (no that wasn't right) standing on the front step. Her eyebrows shot up; the man was definitely easy on the eyes, with a beard that really suited him.

 

“I think we're fine now Graham,” the Mayor replied as she stepped into the house. “Thank you. We'll speak in the morning.”

 

“All right then,” he smiled. “Goodnight Mayor.” The Sheriff nodded at Henry and patted the boy on the shoulder as he walked down the front path. He passed Emma without a word, which surprised her a little. She figured this town would be like New England's version of Mayberry, where you got a 'how's if going' and a steaming cup of clam chowder from every random passerby you met on the street. She spared one last glance at the retreating form of the Sheriff before ducking into the house.

 

By the time Emma closed the front door, Henry was halfway up a ridiculous circular staircase. His mother still had a hand on his shoulder. “I'll be down in a moment Ms. Swan. Please help yourself to a drink in my study,” she said with a flourish of her wrist, indicating where Emma should wait.

 

Once the pair was out of site, Emma took a moment to look around. The house certainly qualified as a mansion. There was something off about it though. It felt so, artificial; like one of those model homes realtors used to sell newly built neighborhoods to young married couples looking to buy their first house. Only this place was definitely out of their price range.

 

The study seemed a bit more homey. An expensive looking wooden desk was situated on the far side of the room. Two overstuffed leather couches filled a majority of the center of the room, and a large fireplace, though unlit, gave the room a feeling of warmth. Emma spotted a collection of bottles lined up on a counter next to a tall bookcase. She examined the alcoholic beverages within, but decided against a drink. She was still planning on driving back to Boston.

 

Plopping down on the painfully comfortable sofa, she let her head fall back and closed her eyes. Her birthday had certainly not gone as she'd expected. Henry showing up at her doorstep had been... terrifying. But driving him back had been the right decision, if for no other reason than to make sure the kid would be okay. And his mother, the Mayor, seemed to take good care of him. There was certainly no reason for her to be concerned. Well...

 

“Thank you for waiting, Ms. Swan.”

 

Emma's eye's shot open. She sat up quickly on the sofa. “Yeah no problem.”

 

“Were you sleeping?” The Mayor asked, not unkindly. “I realize it's very late. I do have a quest room upstairs.”

 

“That's not necessary.” Emma replied too quickly, “I'm fine to drive. I was just... thinking.”

 

“Ah yes. I'm sure this is a lot to take in.” Henry's mother closed the door to the study and took a seat across from Emma. She had a smile on her face that Emma thought seemed so... fake. “I'm sure you were just as surprised as I was that my son decided to track you down.” The Mayor was studying her face. “And on your birthday no less.”

 

_So that's how this is going to be._

 

Emma didn't react. After their phone call, she had figured The Mayor would be doing a little research on her background; or more likely have tall, dark, and Sheriff do it. Being a bounty hunter, Emma understood the compulsion. The part that gave her pause, however; was the fact that the Mayor had wanted her to know. This was a display of power. If she thought about it, not the first of the night. In that moment Emma realized that she really did not like Regina Mills.

 

Emma smiled at the Mayor. “Yes, it was quite a surprise.” She met the older woman's eyes. “So was there something you wanted to ask me? Or did you just want to remind me of your power, Madame Mayor.”

 

“You misunderstand me Ms. Swan.” Even the woman's frowns looked fake. “I merely wished to make sure my son was safe with you. For all I'd known, you'd kidnapped him. I needed to verify your story.”

 

“And was it satisfactory?”

 

“I wouldn't have invited you into my home otherwise.”

 

Emma frowned. She's was lucky the woman hadn't called the Massachusetts State Police and reported an abduction.

 

“So Ms. Swan. I'm curious of your plans now that you've met Henry.” Emma thought she saw a flicker of fear on the older woman's face, but it was gone too fast for her to be sure. “Do you plan to honor the original adoption agreement.”

 

“You don't have to worry about that,” Emma assured. “I like the kid a lot but I'm no mother. And I wasn't lying before. I have no intention of sticking around. The kids clearly got a good life. He doesn't need me interfering with it.”

 

The Mayor nodded. “And if he should track you down again.”

 

Emma sighed, “Then I'll bring him back again. But I really do hope that doesn't happen. I want the kid to be happy here.”

 

“As do I.” The Mayor's expression at that moment was the most honest Emma had seen from her.

 

A silence settled over them.

 

“While you're here, I suppose I should ask about your family,” Regina began. “Do they have any health issues that I should know about?”

 

Emma sat up a little. She'd been expecting the 'what are your intentions with my son' questions, but this one caught her off guard. “Uh, I'm not really sure. I mean I'm healthy,” Emma clarified. “But I never knew my parents.”

 

“I see.” Regina frowned. Emma wondered just how thorough a background check, the Sheriff had conducted. Well, she supposed he hadn't had a whole lot of time. “And his father?” The Mayor continued.

 

“He told me his parents were dead. I didn't ask for details.” Emma hesitated, “He doesn't know about Henry.”

 

The Mayor took a moment to digest that.

 

“Well,” she said after a few moments, her most pressing questions answered. “It's getting late.”

 

Emma stood up, recognizing the dismissal. “I'll let myself out.”

 

Once Regina had opened the study door, Emma beat a hasty retreat. The Mayor followed her stating, “Thank you again Ms. Swan.” She paused. “I must admit. Meeting you has been something of a relief.”

 

Emma frowned. “Oh? How's that?”

 

The Mayor was thoughtful. “I suppose you could have been much worse.”

 

Emma smiled tightly at the Mayor's backhanded compliment. “Goodnight Madame Mayor.”

 

She tried not to slam the door too hard.

* * *

 

Emma found the Sheriff leaning against the passenger door of her car.

 

“Can I help you officer?” Her tone was probably more sarcastic than necessary, but she was tired and wanted to get on the road.

 

“Call me Graham,” he said, oblivious to her annoyance. “I thought you should know. There's a Bed and Breakfast just down Main Street. It's called Granny's.”

 

“Of course it is.”

 

“I called ahead,” the Sheriff added. “They're expecting you.”

 

“Well you'll just have to call them back, Sheriff. I'm not staying the night.”

 

“Did you tell Henry that?” His eyes were focused over her left shoulder. Emma turned and followed his gaze, easily spotting Henry watching them from his bedroom window. The Sheriff pressed on, “Emma it's late. Granny's is very nice. It's clean.” Emma appreciated that selling point. “I'll even buy you breakfast at the diner in the morning.”

 

Was he hitting on her? She raised an eyebrow at him. “It's a bed and breakfast. I'm pretty sure that second part comes with the room.”

 

She had to give him credit; his smile was actually sincere. But then he opened his mouth again. “Why don't you buy me breakfast then.”

 

She rolled her eyes and stepped around him. “Goodnight Sheriff.”

 

“Goodnight Emma,” he sighed, before disappearing down the sidewalk.

 

She got into her car and started the engine. As she shifted the Bug into drive, her eyes landed on Henry’s book.

 

In the distance, a wolf howled.

 

_There's something strange about this town._

 

Suddenly, she realized just how tired she was.

 

_Maybe I will stay the night._

 

 

 

[to be continued]

 


	3. October

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own a miniature blue flag from Medieval Times (We won!), but not Once Upon a Time or any of its characters.
> 
> A/N: Sorry for the delay in this chapter. So many tests. And Saints Row IV. And you try spending two weeks in Archie's head space! I need a hug. Ole miss steaks err min.

* * *

_O hushed October morning mild,_

_Thy leaves have ripened to the fall;_

_Tomorrow's wind, if it be wild,_

_Should waste them all._

_The crows above the forest call;_

_Tomorrow they may form and go._

 

_Enchant the land with amethyst._

_Slow, slow!_

_For the grapes' sake, if they were all,_

_Whose leaves already are burnt with frost,_

_Whose clustered fruit must else be lost-_

_For the grapes' sake along the wall._

 

_-Robert Frost_

* * *

 

**Archie**

 

**Monday October 24** **th** **7:29am**

Archie Hopper was concerned. He'd received three calls from Mayor Mills in the last twelve hours. The first, at 6:30 the prior evening, had been short and demanding; a request to deliver her son as quickly as possible. When he could not oblige, she'd hung up. The second call, forty-five minutes after the first, had been longer and more demanding, with several threats to his lively hood if he was withholding information based on 'ridiculous confidentiality rules.' And the third, which came well after midnight, had been six words and then dial tone: 'Henry's home. We'll speak more tomorrow.'

 

If Archie was completely honest, he was glad to have answered that last call, despite the hour it had been received. He'd been able to sleep better knowing that Henry was safe. Regardless of what the boy thought about his mother, Archie did not doubt that she took good care of him. She clearly loved him. Her personality just had a way of making it hard to see.

 

The psychiatrist frowned as he placed a leash on the collar of his currently inpatient canine companion; the dalmatian had been pawing at the door in frustration for the last few minutes. “Almost ready Pongo,” he assured the pooch.

 

Archie dreaded the coming day. Dealing with the Mayor was... difficult on a good day. Reaching for his umbrella, he thought about his own mother and something she would often tell him. _Always be prepared for the rain Archibald, even if there are no storms on the horizon._ As he recalled, his mother was seldom wrong. Today, he anticipated, was going to see the heavens pour down rain.

 

They left the house, Pongo pulling the pair down toward main street. Archie frowned again as he spotted the Halloween decorations lining the windows of the post office. He would need to remember to stop by Neighbor's Five and Dime for a few club packs of mini snickers. Darkstar always overcharged for the best candy.

 

“Morning Archie,” called a female voice from across the street.

 

The psychiatrist looked up to see a familiar young woman exiting Storybrooke Country Bread, a large brown paper bag in her arms. “Good morning Ruby. Beautiful day.” He smiled at the tall, brunette as she crossed the street to meet him.

 

“So far,” she replied falling into step with him. “I keep waiting for the cold.”

 

“Me too,” he agreed. “Do you need a hand with that bag?”

 

“Nah, you've got Pongo,”

 

Archie peaked into the bag she was carrying, noticing several loaves of freshly baked bread and what looked like a box of pastries. “Doesn't your grandmother do her own baking?” he asked politely, genuinely curious.

 

Ruby smiled over the bag. “Normally yes, but she overslept this morning.” It was said with such relish that Archie raised an eyebrow. “It wasn't her fault though,” she added. “The Sheriff called late last night looking for a favor.”

 

“Oh?” He asked, knowing that Graham was involved in the search for Henry the previous evening.

 

“Yeah. He needed Granny to open the bed and breakfast.” She explained as they stepped onto the walkway leading to Granny's Diner. “Some mysterious woman checked in around two o'clock.”

 

“Who is she?” he inquired.

 

“No idea,” Ruby answered. “Granny checked her in. I didn't see her. Oh, Arch, can you grab the door for me?”

 

“Of course.” Archie quickening his pace to beat Ruby to the entrance. He held open the door for her and then tied Pongo's leash to the white railing of the diner's front steps. “I'll be quick.” He patted his dog on the head and hurried back up the steps.

 

When he came inside Ruby was already behind the counter tying an apron around her waist. “What can I get you Arch? You're usual?”

 

“That'd be great. Thanks Ruby,” he replied as he hung his coat and umbrella by the front door. He took a seat at the counter and gazed around the room. The diner was relatively empty; he spotted the drug store owner, Mr. Clark, seated with the drowsy hospital security guard at a booth by the window. Ruby poured him a cup of coffee and headed to the kitchen to deliver his breakfast order.

 

Archie doctored his liquid caffeine -- two sugars and a splash of creamer -- and was about to call Ruby over to ask her for a copy of The Mirror, when the diner's entrance bell rang. He turned to see an exhausted looking blonde enter. He didn't recognize her and immediately wondered if this might be the 'mysterious woman' Ruby had mentioned. She wore a crimson leather jacket, dark, tight jeans, and a scowl a mile long. She was definitely from out of town. The woman peered around the room, taking an inventory of the diner's inhabitants, before heading toward the counter. Archie nodded to her as she took a seat two stools to his left. “Good morning,” he offered.

 

“That's a matter of opinion,” the blonde grunted as she collapsed against the counter, resting her head on the polished granite. She looked as if she hadn't slept a wink.

 

Ruby returned and placed an toasted English Muffin in front of Archie. They locked eyes and she mouthed, “Who's that?” Archie just shrugged as he spread some strawberry jam on his breakfast.

 

Pausing for a moment, Ruby grabbed a menu and set it down on the counter. “Excuse me?” she called cautiously. The blonde jumped and looked up. “Sorry about that,” the waitress apologized. “I'm Ruby. Can I get you something?”

 

The woman blinked several times, confused. Archie wondered if she had managed to fall asleep in the thirty seconds since she'd put her head down. “Yeah.” She blinked a few more times. “The lady that runs the inn told me to come down for breakfast.”

 

“Oh! You're Ms. Swan!” Ruby beamed at her. “Yeah, pick out anything on the menu. Would you like some juice, coffee, or cocoa? We make great cocoa!”

 

Archie nodded in agreement as he took a bite out of his muffin.

 

Ms. Swan sighed. “Please, call me Emma. I'll just have coffee.” She paused. “Preferably all of your coffee.”

 

Ruby was quick to pour her a cup. “Are you sure you don't want something to eat? We have pastries!”

 

“I'll think about it,” Emma replied adding a pack a sugar to her mug. “Let me drink this first.” The blonde took a large sip and sighed happily. When she glanced up, she noticed Archie had been watching her. He quickly looked away, embarrassed by his rudeness. “I'm in the Twilight Zone,” the blonde mumbled before taking another large sip of coffee.

 

“I'm sorry,” Archie said, smiling at her quip. “We're not really use to strangers passing through Storybrooke.”

 

“Shocking,” Emma replied before she could stop herself. “It's nice though,” she was quick to add apologetically. “Really... quaint.”

 

“Quaint doesn't do much more the tourist trade,” Ruby snorted before turning to Archie. “I can't remember the last time we had a visitor pass through.”

 

“There was that father and son?” Archie said thoughtfully. “The campers who were caught in that really bad electrical storm. It took Michael a week to fix their truck.”

 

“Oh yeah,” Ruby frowned. “That was years ago.”

 

Taking another large bite of his muffin, Archie searched his memory trying to recall exactly when the pair of campers had come to Storybrooke. It had been years, but he struggled to remember just how many.

 

The entrance bells chimed once more, pulling Archie from his recollections. He turned to see Sheriff Humbert step inside.

 

“Morning Ruby. Dr. Hopper,” the Sheriff called out as he strolled up to the counter. His eyes fell on the blonde to Archie's left. “Ms. Swan, it's nice to see you again. I thought you were going to head out last night, but I'm glad you stayed. Personally, I hate driving when I'm not well rested.”

 

Emma glared at him.

 

“What can I get you Graham?” Ruby asked hesitantly, setting a coffee cup in front of him. Archie watched her eyes dart back and forth between the Sheriff and the new comer, most likely wondering how they knew each other. If he was completely honest, he was a bit curious himself.

 

“Coffee and a bear claw,” he answered with a smile. “To go, please, Ruby.”

 

“Busy day of small town Sheriffing?” Emma asked before draining her own mug. She slide the cup toward Ruby in a silent request for a refill.

 

The Sheriff smiled back at her, “Just something Mayor Mills asked me to take care of.”

 

“More background checks?” The blonde snorted into her mug.

 

“That's really between the Mayor and I,” he replied, frowning at Emma. He placed a five dollar bill on the counter. “Ruby?”

 

The waitress blinked, having been too distracted by the interaction to get his order. She scooped up his money and hurried off to procure his pastry and fill a to-go cup. While she was gone, neither Emma or the Sheriff said a word. Archie finished his muffin, trying to ignore the uncomfortable silence that had settled over them. “I hear it may rain later,” he offered.

 

The Sheriff leaned forward on the counter. “Emma, I'm sorry. When Mayor Mills realized who you were, she was worried that-”

 

Emma cut him off. “Look, Sheriff, you don't have to explain. I was joking. It's fine. Don't lose any sleep.”

 

Ruby returned before he could say anything in response. “Here you are Sheriff,” she said handing off a a small bag, a Styrofoam container, and a handful of change.

 

“Thanks Ruby.” The Sheriff left the coins on the counter and nodded to Archie. “Dr. Hopper.” He turned to Emma. “Ms. Swan, have a safe trip back.”

 

The blonde waved him off. She turned to the brunette behind the counter. “Can I get a refill?”

 

Ruby reached for the coffee pot.

 

“Do you have any more bear claws?” Emma added, as she sweetened her coffee.

 

Ruby smiled and went to fetch the blonde's pastry.

 

“So you're a doctor?” Emma asked, looking at Archie. She still looked exhausted, but the coffee seemed to be making her more sociable.

 

“Yes,” he replied as he placed a few bills on the counter. Pongo was probably getting impatient. “A psychiatrist actually.”

 

Emma's smile didn't exactly ring true. “Oh, that's great.” She looked back at her coffee.

 

Archie chuckled. He was familiar with that reaction. “It was nice meeting you Ms. Swan. I hope you enjoy you're time here in Storybrooke.”

 

“Thanks, but I'm not staying long.”

 

“That's a shame,” he lamented. “I like to think this town is something special.” He smiled at her. “Well, it was nice meeting you.” With that, Archie stepped toward the door and pulled on his jacket. As he reached for his umbrella, the front door swung open almost clipping his shoulder. The bells did not jingle this time, as Mr. Gold stepped in. Archie held the door open for his landlord, allowing the older man to limp inside.

 

“Dr. Hopper,” the pawnbroker muttered in greeting as he stepped in the diner.

 

“Mr. Gold,” Archie nodded. “Good morning.”

 

The older man didn't reply; his eye's were focused on the blonde sitting at the counter. “Emma Swan?” He breathed.

 

It was barely audible, but still Emma turned to face them. Archie could not recall ever having seen Mr. Gold look quite so startled. And based on his expression, the pawnbroker hadn't intended to speak Emma's name aloud. But he did. And now she was eying him with cautious curiosity. “Do I know you?” she queried.

 

“No, I don't believe so,” Mr. Gold replied, his face now devoid of expression. He allowed a small smile to tug at the corners of his mouth. “This is a small town. When there's a guest about... well... word travels fast.” With that, he moved on and was seated in an empty booth across the room before either Archie or Emma could question him further.

 

Just then the clock tower sounded for the first time in as long as Archie could remember. He counted seven chimes. Stepping outside, he turned to look at the old clock, wondering why the city council had finally decided to fix it. Pongo whined at his ankle. He untied his dalmatian and headed across the street to his office.

* * *

 

The Mayor's name flashed on his caller id just before nine, as Archie was finishing up Ms. Ginger's session. The elderly woman, who he felt had an unnatural adoration for her three cats, scowled at him, ignored his apologies, and slammed the door more forcefully than was probably necessary, on her way out. He would have to call her later to make a second apology.

 

Steeling himself, Archie answered the phone. “Madame Mayor?”

 

“Dr. Hopper,” came the Mayor's firm voice. “Were you aware that Henry was looking for his birth mother?”

 

_And hello to you too, Madame Mayor._

 

Archie frowned. Henry was looking for his birth mother? This was much worse than he'd thought. The boy had been in therapy for almost a year now and not once had he expressed any real dissatisfaction with his adoptive mother. Of course, he was quick to complain about her strictness, but then most children weren't particularly keen on cleaning their rooms or completing homework well in advance. His prior infrequent, grievances regarding the Mayor had never raised any red flags. Although, fair point, their sessions up to this point tended to revolve around his troubles in school, and not his home life. Archie made a mental note to correct that oversight. “No, Madame Mayor,” he finally replied. “I wasn't even aware that he knew he was adopted.”

 

There was a moment of silence. Then. “Neither was I.”

 

Archie digested that information. “Am I correct in assuming that Henry missed his appointment yesterday because he went in search of his birth mother?”

 

“To Boston.” He could tell she was angry. “She returned him late last night.” Well that certainly explained Emma Swan's presence in town.

 

“Madame Mayor, this is extremely concerning.” Archie stood up and walked to the window. Henry had never shown any hint of wanting to run away. Then, without any warning, he'd gone all the way to Massachusetts. How long had the boy been planning this? Did he have help? “Do you know how he got to Boston?”

 

“I asked him last night, but he wouldn't talk to me.” She sounded frustrated. “However, I did find a bus ticket in the back pocket of his jeans this morning. He took the Concord Line from Rockland. I don't know how he paid for it. None of my credit cards are missing. Perhaps he wrote down one of the numbers.”

 

“He's a resourceful boy.” Archie sighed. “I think we need to have a meeting about this; you, myself, and...” he paused, knowing she wasn't going to like this. “And Henry's birth mother.”

 

“Absolutely not,” she refused without hesitation.

 

“Madame Mayor.” He sat in the brown leather chair next to the window. “He kept this from both of us. She may know why he went to find her.”

 

“She left town last night,” The Mayor pointed out. “She's gone.”

 

“Actually, she's not.” He tried to sound apologetic. “Emma Swan, right? I met her a few hours ago at Granny's Diner. She may not have left yet.”

 

Silence.

 

And then: “My office. Three-thirty. I'll contact Ms. Swan.”

 

“Okay,” he agreed. “I'll see you then.”

* * *

 

When Archie arrived at the Mayor's office, he noticed Mary Margret Blanchard sitting in the waiting area. Edith, the Mayor's young secretary, waved him to the well worn leather cough that lined the far wall. “She's on the phone. It'll be a few minutes Dr. Hopper.”

 

He nodded and sat down next to his longtime friend. “Good afternoon Mary Margret. It's good to see you again. How are you?”

 

“I'm well,” the school teacher replied with a smile. She took in a deep breath and gazed around the small room. “It's strange. I haven't been back here in years, but it hasn't changed a bit.” She paused, eying the pale yellow walls. “I thought Regina would have at least repainted.”

 

Archie smiled. “You haven't been in her office yet. It's... a bit different.” He paused. “Are you here for the meeting?”

 

She nodded, looking a bit nervous. “I guess. Regina didn't say much on the phone. I assume this is about Henry. ”

 

“You assume correctly.” Mayor Mills stood in the doorway of her office. “Ms. Blanchard, a word please.” The meek school teacher leapt to her feet and hurried into the office. “I'll be with you in a moment Dr. Hopper,” The Mayor added before slamming the door.

 

Archie hoped that Henry's mother didn't take her frustration out on his friend; her dislike of Mary Margret was no secret in such a small town. It was actually the reason he hadn't suggested including Henry's teacher in their meeting. He had assumed the Mayor would react negatively to both the woman's presence and her opinions. However, he didn't hear any screaming coming from the office. Perhaps he had underestimated-

 

“Regina! I swear I didn't know!” Mary Margret's panicked voice carried well through the thin gray door.

 

 _Or perhaps not_.

 

Archie briefly considered checking on them, but he doubted their conversation would come to blows.

 

Probably.

 

The minutes ticked by without a sound.

 

 _Maybe I should go check._..

 

“Can I help you?” Edith asked.

 

Archie turned to her. “Yeah, I think I should che...”

 

“Not you,” the secretary frowned at him. She turned to the woman standing in the doorway that led to the main hallway. “Are you Ms. Swan?”

 

Emma looked a bit lost as she stepped inside the waiting area, a leather bound book clutched under one arm. “Yeah, I'm here for a meeting with the Mayor.” She appeared just as tired as she had in the morning.

 

“One moment please.” Edith pointed to the couch and then pressed her intercom. “Madame Mayor, Ms. Swan is here.”

 

Several seconds passed.

 

“Send her in,” commanded the Mayor's voice. Then as an afterthought, “Dr. Hopper too.”

 

Archie stood and held the door for Emma. He entered the room just behind her and spotted Mary Margret, looking a bit shell shocked, seated at the white marble conference table to the right of the Mayor's desk.

 

“Have a seat.” The Mayor waved her hand toward the table.

 

The psychiatrist claimed the space next to Mary Margaret. “Are you okay?” he whispered.

 

The teacher nodded without looking at him, her eyes fixed on the woman across from her. Emma was already sitting, opposite Mary Margaret, glaring at a decorative fruit bowl positioned in center of the table, one blonde eyebrow raised.

 

“Let's begin,” the Mayor said, taking a seat at the head of the table. She looked at Archie.

 

“Yes?” It took him a moment to realize he was supposed to start. “Right. The Mayor and I have some serious concerns about Henry's actions recently. Yesterday he left Storybrooke, without telling anyone, in order to find his birth mother... well you... Ms. Swan... in Boston. We were hoping that this meeting could help us elucidate why he felt-”

 

“Ms. Swan.” The Mayor turned to Emma, apparently having run out of patience. “Did Henry tell you why he came to find you?”

 

The blonde's eyes went wide. “Um... No, not really.”

 

The Mayor narrowed her eyes. “He didn't say anything to you in the four hours you were with him?”

 

“He did,” Emma hedged. “But I'm not sure how relevant it's gonna be.”

 

“Anything he said might be helpful,” Archie pointed out.

 

Emma sighed, “Well, he mostly wanted to talk about fairy tales. A lot of fairy tales. From a book he had.”

 

The Mayor turned a cold stare on Mary Margret, who in turn looked shamefully down at her lap. Neither of them noticed the frown that was currently occupying Emma Swan's face; an expression Archie had frequently seen on the faces of patients who were holding something back. He was about to comment on it, when the blonde heaved her leather bound book onto the table. She slid the tome in front of the Mayor.

 

Even upside down, Archie could make out the golden script on the cover. It read: 'Once Upon A Time'.

 

The Mayor stared down at the book, her face blank. “This is the book?” The question was directed at Henry's teacher.

 

“It is.” Mary Margret confirmed.

 

“He seems to think all the stories in there are true.” Emma stated. She hesitated for a moment before adding, “And that all the characters in the book are also people here in town.”

 

“How long has he had the book?” Archie asked, completely flummoxed as to how he was only learning about this now.

 

“Two months. I gave it to him at the start of the school year,” answered Mary Margret. “But I don't think he believed the stories right away. He only started talking about them a few weeks ago. That's when he told me he thought I was...” She trailed off, clearly not wanting to finish her thought.

 

The Mayor looked up at her. “He thought you were whom?”

 

Mary Margret bit her lip, embarrassed. “Snow White.”

 

The Mayor smiled tightly. “And which character am I?” From the look on her face, Archie got the impression she already had a pretty good idea.

 

Emma and Mary Margret locked eyes across the table. From their expressions, neither of them want to deliver the bad news. After a beat, Emma bit the bullet. “The Queen... from Snow White and the Seven Dwarves.” Archie noted that she left off a certain sinister adjective.

 

For the briefest of moments, a flicker of emotion cross the Mayor's face; whether it was pain or anger, Archie couldn't tell. When she spoke again her voice was steady and entirely too calm. “I believe we're done here.”

 

Emma was confused. “Wait. That's it?”

 

Ignoring her, the Mayor turned to Mary Margret, her election-winning smile in place. “Please send Edith the total for all the credit card charges.”

 

“Regina it's fine,” the teacher began, also clearly confused at the abrupt change in the conversation.

 

“Nonsense. I'll have a check out to you as soon as possible.” The Mayor turned to Emma before Mary Margret could protest again. “Ms. Swan, thank you for taking the time to meet with Dr. Hopper and I. I'm sure you're eager to get back on the road, so I won't keep you any longer. Have a good trip back to Boston.” She stood from her chair and indicated to the bowl in the middle of the table. “Please, take an apple for the road.” The Mayor moved away from the table, Henry's book clutched to her chest. She was behind her desk before any of them had moved a muscle.

 

“Right,” Emma said, the first to stand. She looked at the Mayor. “For what it's worth, I really do hope everything works out.” She paused. “I can tell he's a good kid.”

 

The Mayor didn't reply.

 

Emma rolled her eyes and made for the door.

 

“I'll walk you out,” Mary Margret called after her, clearly eager to get out of the office.

 

Archie moved toward the door, but instead of leaving with the others, he closed it and turned to face the Mayor. When she didn't shoo him away, he took a few cautious steps forward, placing a hand on the back of one of the tall backed chairs that sat opposite her desk.

 

The Mayor didn't look at him when she said, “He thinks I'm an evil witch.”

 

Archie sat down. “I know his next appointment isn't until Sunday, but I'd like to see him sooner. And I think we should increase the number of sessions to twice per week.”

 

The Mayor looked at him, her face hard. “What do you hope to accomplish? It's been a year and he's only getting worse.”

 

“When the therapy isn't working, you adjust it.” Archie explained, looking down at the book on the Mayor's desk. “He's been through a lot in the last few years and he's clearly using these stories as an outlet to help deal with his feelings. You may not see it this way, but this book might actually be a good thing.”

 

“I beg you're pardon.”

 

Archie spoke cautiously. “He hasn't been communicating with either one of us. He's been lying, Madame Mayor. He's run away. But, if I can get him to talk about the fairy tales... if I can use his own language... well that may give us some insight to what's making him so unhappy.”

 

“We already know what caused all this,” she countered.

 

“I don't think it's that simple, Madame Mayor.”

 

“I won't have you indulging his... theories.”

 

“Not indulging. Communicating. If this is the language he chooses to express his feelings, then we have to be receptive to it.” Archie hesitated. The Mayor had not been particularly accepting of this idea in the past. “It's true that he hasn't had as many outburst's since we started him in therapy. But, with this trip to Boston, it may be time to reconsider starting him on a mood stab-”

 

“Absolutely not.” Her tone brooked no dispute. “I will not poison my son.”

 

“Madame Mayor, I wouldn't suggest something that wasn't safe.”

 

Just then the intercom buzzed.

 

“What is it Edith?” The Mayor said to the small box on her desk.

 

“Mr. Gold is here to see you,” Edith answered. “He says it's urgent.”

 

Regina sighed, before gazing back at Dr. Hopper. “Two sessions per week. I expect regular updates on his progress. And no medication.” She made sure to emphasize that last point, as she slid Henry's book into a desk drawer. “Now if you'll excuse me.” She stood and moved toward the entrance of her office.

 

“Off course.” Archie rose to follow her. He caught her eye when they reached the door. “This could take some time.”

 

She didn't reply, instead opening the door for him.

 

Archie nodded to her. “Have a pleasant evening, Madame Mayor.”

 

In the waiting room, Mr. Gold was leaning against his cane, a briefcase clutched in his left hand. “Dr. Hopper,” the older man smiled. “Always a pleasure.” He stepped past the psychiatrist and into the Mayor's office. Archie turned in time to see the door close.

 

“Did you need something else, Dr. Hopper?” Edith asked from her desk.

 

“Uh, no,” Archie replied. “Have a good night.”

 

As he left City Hall, Archie thought about Henry and Regina. He thought about his own parents. And he thought about how it's always easier to wish for something better, than it is to make the best of what you have.

 

When he reached Main Street, he felt the first of many rain drops. He hurried to his office to collect Pongo, and pick up his umbrella.

 

[to be continued]

* * *

 


	4. A Patch of Old Snow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own a truly ridiculous amount of student debt, but not Once Upon a Time or any of its characters. All errors are mine and mine alone.
> 
> A/N: A few people have asked about the scenes that Archie was not privy to in the previous chapter, (Regina with Mary Margaret and Gold) and while I have written those scenes, I doubt I will include them in any future chapters. Perhaps in flashbacks or as a bonus material chapter after all is said and done. Why write them and not include them, you ask? Well, with so many characters in this universe, it can be tough to remember what each character knows are any given point in the story. It's nice to have the scenes available to go back and reread. And for the super sleuths out there, I do drop hints as to what was discussed. 
> 
> I'm really trying to follow the George R.R. Martin approach to storytelling. And by that, I mean the snails pace at which he writes... I kid. I kid. My goal is for everything you read to be completely influenced by the specific chapter's narrator and their unique opinions and biases. It makes things much harder on the reader because each character will only ever give you pieces of the bigger story and their conclusions may not be accurate. So basically, you are all on your own in figuring out what's going on... and Jon Snow's parentage.

* * *

_There's a patch of old snow in the corner,_

_That I should have guessed_

_Was a blow-away paper the rain_

_Has brought to rest._

 

_It is speckled with grime as if_

_Small print overspread it,_

_The news of the day I've forgotten-_

_If I ever read it._

_-Robert Frost_

* * *

 

**Mary Margaret**

 

**Monday October 24th** **th** **3:42pm**

Mary Margaret caught up with Henry's birth mother just as she was entering the stairwell a few doors down the hall from the Mayor's office. “I'm sorry about Regina,” she said. “I wish I could tell you that she didn't mean to be rude, but...” The brunette sighed as she fell into step with the blonde. “Well, it's sort of her way.” She extended a hand. “I'm Mary Margaret by the way. We were never formally introduced.”

 

“Emma Swan,” the other woman responded, returning the handshake. “Nice to meet you.”

 

They descended the stairs quickly, stepping into the main hall that led past the newly renovated council chambers. Mary Margaret liked the refurbishments Regina had made to the old administrative building, though a part of her did miss the antique furniture and well-weathered oak floors that she'd spent so much time racing up and down as a child. She recalled many lazy summer afternoons spent playing hide-and-seek with her father's secretary, Johanna, while he was busy with his meetings.

 

“You're Henry's teacher, right?” the blonde asked, pulling the brunette from her recollections.

 

“I am,” Mary Margaret confirmed. “He's in forth grade. He's one of the brightest students in my class.”

 

“That's great.” Emma smiled sadly at the compliment. They reached the first floor quickly and made their way out of City Hall. Once in the large building's expansive courtyard, the blonde slowed her pace. “How was he today? In class I mean. Was he alright?”

 

Mary Margaret considered the other woman. From what she'd pieced together from her conversation with Regina, Emma had only just met the boy yesterday. He'd arrived on her doorstep, completely out of the blue, and yet, the blonde had driven him all the way back from Boston. Then she'd stayed in town all day just to sit through a five minute meeting with his mother and therapist. “You care about him,” she concluded.

 

“I just want to make sure the kid's okay,” Emma looked embarrassed to admit.

 

Mary Margaret pondered Henry's behavior at school that day. He _had_ seemed different; socializing with the other students during recess and participating more than normal during lessons. And, where most days he spent all his time with his nose buried in his storybook, today, 'Once Upon A Time' hadn't made a single appearance. If she was being completely honest, earlier in the day she'd been quite relieved. It had seemed like, finally, after two months, the boy had turned a corner. When she'd questioned him regarding how he was doing -- prior to learning about his weekend adventure -- he'd told her that his plan had worked; that his mom was going to fix everything.

 

Now, face to face with the boy's birth mother, Mary Margaret was starting to understand exactly what he'd meant by that. He'd brought this woman, his birth mother, to Storybrooke, given her his book, and tasked her with breaking a curse that didn't exist. It said a lot about Emma Swan, that she hadn't fled town already.

 

A jolt went through Mary Margaret. Quite suddenly, she realized exactly who Henry thought this woman was. The book's prophesied 'Savior.' Her...

 

_No._

 

Snow's daughter.

 

She shook off that thought and looked at the blonde. Why was she lingering in town? Had she subconsciously taken up Henry's challenge? Not to break his curse, obviously, but perhaps to be a presence in his life... Did she want to build a relationship with the boy?

 

 _No wonder Regina's so angry_.

 

“Are you okay?” Emma asked, clearly having noticed Mary Margaret staring at her for so long.

 

“Why don't I buy you a cup of coffee?” the brunette offered, in way of answering her question.

 

The other woman made a face. “One more cup and I'll launch into orbit.”

 

“Maybe some cocoa then,” Mary Margaret amended. “Granny's made a great cup.”

 

“So I've heard,” Emma sighed. She looked up at the overcast sky. “Yeah, might as well. It looks like rain anyway. My car doesn't handle wet roads very well.”

* * *

 

The heavens opened up just as they reached the diner. Shuffling quickly inside, Mary Margaret grabbed a vacant booth near the exit while Emma leaned against the large front window, peering around painted jack-o-lanterns, to watch the rain. From her seat, the brunette just made out Dr. Hopper racing across the street, no doubt seeking shelter from the storm in his office.

 

“Hey Mary Margaret,” Ruby called from behind the counter.

 

“Hi Ruby. Can we get a couple of hot cocoa's?” Mary Margaret asked, as she removed her jacket.

 

“Of course,” the waitress replied, directing a smirk at Emma's back. “Whipped cream and cinnamon?”

 

“The works,” she confirmed.

 

“Coming right up.”

 

Emma pushed away from the window and took the seat opposite Mary Margaret. “Any idea how long it's going to rain?”

 

“I don't think very long,” she answered with a shrug. “The forecast was for scattered showers all afternoon.”

 

“Right.” Emma removed her red leather jacket and tossed it down on the seat next to her. They sat in a reasonably comfortable silence for a few moments until Ruby returned with their beverages.

 

“Nice,” Emma said, eying the cocoa that was just placed in front of her. She grabbed a spoon from the table and dug into the whipped topping.

 

“I told you,” Ruby bragged. “Can I get you ladies anything else?”

 

The blonde shook her head, her mouth filled with delicious cream and cinnamon.

 

“No thank you, Ruby,” Mary Margaret replied. She wrapped her hand around the mug. “I'm fine with just this.”

 

A wolfish grin spread across the waitresses face. “I'm off in an hour. Want to hit the Rabbit Hole tonight?'

 

“School night,” the teacher answered before sipping the cocoa.

 

Ruby rolled her eyes. “What about you Emma? Monday night special. Half priced drinks 'til nine!”

 

“Rain check?” the blonde asked as she took a small sip of her drink, testing the temperature.

 

That earned another eye roll from the tall brunette. “Hilarious,” she called out on her way back to the kitchen.

 

Mary Margaret watched Emma smile as she blew on her cocoa. There was something about her that seemed so familiar. Boston was pretty close to Storybrooke... though was pretty sure the blonde had never made it into town before. “So what do you think of Storybrooke?”

 

“I like it so far. Haven't really seen that much though,” Emma answered, setting down her mug.

 

“And you're from Boston?”

 

She shook her head. “All over actually. I move around a lot.”

 

“For work?”

 

“Yes and no,” the blonde replied with a smirk, as though she'd experienced this exact same interrogation many times before. “My job lets me be pretty flexible with where I live. I don't really like to stay in one place for too long.” She took another small sip of her cocoa.

 

“We'll that's exciting. You're a nomad.” Mary Margaret concluded, raising her own beverage to her lips. “It makes sense that you'd want to give up Henry.”

 

Emma's eye's went wide.

 

_Oh my God. Did I say that out loud?_

 

An occasional sufferer of foot-in-mouth disease, Mary Margaret clamped a hand over her lips, nearly dropping her cocoa in the process. She imagined her face was now a shade or two darker than the fruit that grew in the back courtyard of City Hall. “Emma, I am so sorry! I can't believe I just said that. I shouldn't have assumed anything about your situation.”

 

The blonde looked very uncomfortable, casting a quick glance toward the door. Mary Margaret could practically see the wheels turning inside her head; she was looking for the quickest path out of Dodge.

 

“Please don't leave,” she said quickly, hoping it didn't sound like she was begging. “I really am sorry.” When the blonde still looked unsure, Mary Margaret added, “We don't have to talk about this.”

 

Emma didn't seem able to meet her eye, but she'd stopped eying the exit, which probably meant she wasn't going to bolt any second.

 

Maybe.

 

She took a rather large gulp of her cocoa, that surely must have burned the entirety of her throat, and then opened her mouth to speak. “I never really wanted to give him up.”

 

“You don't have to explain yourself.”

 

They sat in an uncomfortable silence. “You had questions about Henry?” Mary Margaret finally questioned, hoping to steer the conversation somewhere less awkward.

 

Emma sighed. “Why don't we start with something easier.” She looked up. “What can you tell me about his mom?”

 

Mary Margaret nearly spit out a mouthful of cocoa. As one of the few people who had known the Mayor since childhood, she didn't think talking about Regina would be any easier. “What would you like to know?” she asked cautiously.

 

Emma sat back in her seat. “Well for starters, is she always so...” she struggled for the right words. “Yeah, there's no nice way to put this.”

 

“I think I get the idea,” Mary Margaret frowned. “I've actually known her for most of my life.” The school teacher paused, collecting her thoughts. “And no, she wasn't always like this. I mean, she's always been distant, but never so... cold.” The brunette could easily recall a time when Regina had been... well not carefree exactly... but certainly much softer. As children, they had spent a substantial amount of time together. Regina was several years older, but they'd developed a bond that Mary Margaret still looked back on quite fondly. She'd been a good friend once.

 

“Regina has had a rough go of it these last few years,” she explained. More than a few if she was being completely honest.

 

“Because of Henry?” the blonde asked.

 

“More recently, yes.” Mary Margaret hesitated to say more. She knew it probably wasn't a good idea to start spilling the Mayor's secrets to the blonde newcomer, but Emma really did seem to care about Henry. And he _had_ seemed better today. Getting the blonde involved might be just what the boy needed, even though Regina would probably disagree.

 

“He's had some problems in school,” she finally revealed.

 

“I thought you said he was a good student?”

 

“Not academic problems,” Mary Margaret clarified. “The issue was with some of the other children.”

 

Emma sighed. “Is that a nice way of saying he's been fighting?”

 

The brunette looked down at her mug. “I only started working at the elementary school last year, so this is all second hand information, but from what I was told, there were several altercations.” She took a sip of cocoa, thinking back to the conversation she'd had with the school librarian during last summer's in-service.

 

“Did he hurt anyone?” Emma said to her mug.

 

“I'm sorry?” Mary Margaret asked quickly, eying the deflated blonde. Did Emma really think Henry could have been the aggressor?

 

“Oh, I assumed...” Emma trailed off.

 

“No,” the school teacher shook her head. “Emma, no. It was a pair of fifth graders. Henry was in second grade then.” She frowned, thinking of how the school had failed him. “It went on for a while before anyone figured it out.” She paused. “Regina was furious. She wanted the boys expelled.”

 

“Were they?” Emma asked, suddenly sounding a bit angry herself.

 

“No,” Mary Margaret shook her head. “They were suspended and Henry was switched to a different class in another building...”

 

“But?”

 

“But, there were still problems.” The brunette shrugged. “I really don't know the details. He did finish off second grade, but Regina decided to keep him home last year.”

 

“She home schooled him?” Emma asked.

 

Mary Margaret nodded. “Yes. She was going to keep him home again this year, but at the last minute she changed her mind. He was added to my class list in late August.”

 

“Wow.” Emma let out a long breath. “That explains some of this.” She thought for a moment. “How long has he been seeing the shrink?”

 

“That I don't know.”

 

The blonde raked her fingers through her hair and leaned against the table. Suddenly she looked very sad. “I really hoped he wouldn't have to deal with crap like this.” Emma looked up to meet Mary Margaret's eyes. “I wanted to give him his best chance.”

 

Mary Margaret instinctively reached her hand across the table, but stopped just short of touching Emma's arm. The blonde didn't seem to notice. “You shouldn't doubt yourself Emma. Like I said before, I really don't know the circumstances of Henry's adoption, but I can assure you that he's in a good home. Regina is devoted to him.”

 

“And she's a good mother?” The blonde was clearly looking for reassurance.

 

“I know she is,” Mary Margaret said sincerely.

 

Emma considered that for a moment. “What about his curse 'theory'? How did that start?”

 

“Yea... that was my fault,” the brunette said sheepishly.

 

“Because you gave him the book?”

 

She nodded. “I really wish I hadn't. I never dreamed he'd would think it was real.”

 

“Did you write it?”

 

“Oh no,” Mary Margaret replied. “I found it in the pawnshop down the street.” She had been by the store looking for a replacement tea set, when she'd spotted the leather bound tome resting underneath a creepy pair of wooden dolls. For reasons beyond her comprehension, she had felt compelled to buy the book. Mr. Gold didn't tell her much about it at the time, only that it was written by a local author who hadn't been able to get the book published. He hadn't given her the authors name. After the purchase, Mary Margaret practically inhaled the stories.

 

“I'm not ashamed to say that I absolutely loved it,” she told Emma. “I read it cover-to-cover over a weekend back in July.” She sipped her quickly disappearing cocoa. “Did you get a chance to read it?”

 

Emma shook her head. “Henry gave me the Cliff's Notes on the ride up from Boston, but I did look at a few of the illustrations last night. I didn't get to see how it ended though. I doubt I will now.”

 

Mary Margaret agreed. Now that the book was in Regina's possession, she didn't think it would see the light of day for quite some time. At least not while Henry believed her to be the Evil Queen.

 

“Well I suppose I could spoil it for you.” Mary Margaret suggested. She went on when the blonde didn't object, “The story ends with the Evil Queen casting the curse.”

 

“That's kind of a downer,” Emma observed.

 

“Well it was more of a cliff-hanger,” she hesitated before she went on, knowing Emma's supposed 'role.' “Just before the end, Rumpelstiltskin prophesied a 'Savior' who would break the curse.”

 

“Huh,” the blonde looked confused. “I wonder why Henry didn't mention that part?”

 

Mary Margaret shrugged, waiting for Emma to put the pieces together. It was a bit surprising that Henry hadn't mentioned his reason for collecting Emma, though she guessed, that he had been afraid of scaring her off. He really was very smart for his age.

 

“I assume there will be a sequel eventually,” Mary Margaret added. She would have to remember to stop by Gold's shop and ask him about that.

 

“What confused me,” Emma began, “was how Henry connected _this_ town with the story. That curse sounded pretty vague. It was supposed to what? Take away all the happy endings or something like that? How does he associate the loss everyone's happiness, with being stuck in some poorly named New England fishing town?” Emma made a face. “You know, I think I just answered my own question.”

 

“First of all, were a village not a town,” the brunette corrected, feigning insult. She could tell the blonde was teasing her. “And I think Storybrooke is a fine name.” She made a face as if she smelled something foul. “You're right about the fishing part though,” One thing Mary Margaret never liked about her home town, was the constant lingering aroma of canned sardines. She wouldn't go anywhere near the docks in the summer, the stench simply unbearable.

 

Catching the look on the other woman's face, Emma quipped. “Are you sure you're not Ariel?”

 

“Oh, ha ha,” Mary Margaret drawled. “It is actually kind of funny though. When I was a little girl, my mother would always dress me as Snow White for Halloween. The _only_ brunette Disney princess.” She smiled at the memory. “And I absolutely _hated_ it. I wanted to be a hero and there I was, always dressed as this... damsel in distress. I remember watching that movie as a little girl and being so angry. Why didn't she throw that apple back at the Evil Queen, and take back her Kingdom?” She thought back to the first time she read Henry's book. “As much trouble as that book has caused... well, credit where it's due; this new version of Snow White is so much better.”

 

Emma smiled at her. “Does is almost make you want to pull a sword on Madame Mayor?”

 

Mary Margaret laughed a little too loudly at that. “Oh God, could you imagine?” She gave a quick look around the diner to ensure no one was in earshot, then leaned across the table and said, “Please don't repeat this back to Henry, but when he first told me that I was Snow White, my first thought was how amazing it would be.” She smiled at the thought. “To be the hero, a character so pure of heart that she was adored by an entire kingdom. Even though that's not me at all, it was certainly a nice ego boost.” She blushed. “I'm embarrassed to say when he told me, the eleven year old in me wanted to grab a sword and ride off to find my Prince Charming.”

 

“Doesn't that happen the other way around?”

 

“Not in the real world,” Mary Margaret huffed, thinking of a certain blue eyed stable manager. She shook her head, “Anyway, it's always fun to imagine greatness... to pretend to be something more than we are.” She finished the last of her cocoa.

* * *

 

Mary Margaret quickly lost track of time.

 

Ruby had refilled their cocoas while they continued their discussion on fairy tales. Emma had explained that she preferred Grimm's tales over the Disney adaptations -- though she did say that, 'gun to her head,' Peter Pan was her favorite of the animated films. From there, the conversation meandered to talk of Emma's life in the real world. Mary Margaret leaned that the blonde was a bounty hunter who had spent time in Pittsburgh, Chicago, New York, Baltimore, Philadelphia, and Tallahassee (She'd hated Philadelphia, but loved Baltimore). She'd only been in Boston for a little over six months.

 

Mary Margaret, in turn, explained how she'd always wanted to teach elementary school. She told Emma how most of her life had been spent in Storybrooke, except for four years of college at the University of Connecticut. She blushed when she mentioned that her father had been Mayor before Regina, and that some of the older citizens still treated her like royalty.

 

Almost an hour passed before Mary Margaret's eyes fell to the window behind Emma. The sun was once again visible, though extremely low in the sky. “Oh, it looks like the rain stopped.”

 

The blonde reached into the pocket of her jacket and retrieved a cell phone, checking the display. “Yeah, I should probably head out soon.”

 

Mary Margaret caught some motion by the front entrance of the diner. She smiled to herself, while Emma scrolled on her phone. “Are you going to say goodbye to Henry?”

 

“I don't think so,” the blonde said without looking up. “Kid probably thinks I'm already go-”

 

“Emma!” Henry shouted from the door.

 

Emma jumped as the boy hurried over.

 

“You're still here! I knew you'd stay!”

 

When Henry reached them, Mary Margaret got a good look at his mud soaked clothing. He wore dark riding pants, a flannel shirt, brown boots that nearly reached his knees, and what appeared to be all of the dirt and grim in Storybrooke.

 

Emma took in his appearance. “Geez, what happened to you kid?”

 

Henry shrugged. “I had a lesson with David, but it started raining.” He looked down at his clothing. “Then I slipped.”

 

Mary Margaret looked at the door. “Did David drop you off?”

 

Henry nodded. “Yea, he had to go back and clean up the horses.” He looked at Emma. “I rode Comet today, but I like Lenny better.”

 

“Wait, horses? Your mom lets you ride horses?” The blonde looked surprised. Then incredulous. “Does she ride too?”

 

“Regina?” Mary Margaret snorted. “No. She hates riding. Her father bought the stables when she was just a girl, but she never took to it. I haven't seem her on a horse in...” she thought for a moment, “Wow, almost thirty years.” Mary Margaret suddenly felt very old.

 

“I trust you're not giving away _all_ my secrets, Ms. Blanchard.”

 

It was Mary Margaret's turn to jump. Regina quickly materialized behind Henry. She had a small duffel bag strung over one shoulder and was eying the mud on her son's clothing with clear displeasure. “How was your lesson?”

 

“It was fine,” the boy answered with a shrug.

 

“Did you wear your helmet?” she asked as she scrapped some dried mud from his hair.

 

“Duh, mom. Davi- Mr. Nolan, won't let you ride without it.”

 

She handed him the bag. “You're a mess. Go change before Mrs. Lucas makes you clean the floors.” She pushed him toward the bathroom. “And wash your hands, those nails are filthy.” He turned to look at Emma for a moment, as if she would put a stop to this injustice, before quickly shuffling off under his mother's glare.

 

“Ms. Swan,” Regina began, her eyes still locked on the retreating form of her son. “I thought you'd be half way to Boston by now.”

 

“Decided to wait out the storm,” Emma explained.

 

Regina settled her gaze on the blonde. “Well it's no longer raining. As they say, 'no time like the present.'”

 

When Emma didn't agree, Henry's mother continued. “Perhaps I wasn't clear enough. You should go. Now.”

 

The blonde narrowed her eyes. “Or what?” She leaned back against her seat and crossed her arms in front of her.

 

“Oh, nothing like that dear.” The Mayor's smile didn't quite reach her eyes. “You misunderstand me. It's getting dark,” she explained as she brushed some lint off her tailored black slacks. “I wouldn't want you to run into any trouble getting home.”

 

Emma smiled right back at her. “Actually I was thinking of staying the night. Everyone's been so friendly here. And I'm a big fan of the coast. Maybe tomorrow I'll take a boat tour.” She met the Mayor's eye. “This town's really growing on me.”

 

“It is?” Mary Margaret blurted out. Neither woman acknowledged her.

 

Regina stared down at Emma, unamused. “It's time for you to leave, Ms. Swan.”

 

“Is that a threat?” Emma demanded.

 

“If that's what is required to make you see reason,” Regina volleyed back.

 

Emma stood up from the booth, stepping right up to the Mayor. For a split second, Mary Margaret thought the blonde was going to take a swing. Instead, she said, “Here's the thing, Madame Mayor. The more you try to push me out, the more I want to stay in town, just to piss you off.”

 

Mary Margaret's eyes went wide. No one spoke to Regina like that.

 

Ever.

 

Regina scrutinized the blonde, her smile growing. She looked like she was enjoying Emma's defiance. “An admirable goal, surely. However, what you fail to see is that I'm acting in your best interest.”

 

“How's that?” Emma crossed her arms. She clearly didn't plan on backing down.

 

“After you left this afternoon, I took a look through my son's little book,” the Mayor explained. “Henry seems to have cast you as the hero of this tale. The 'Savior'.”

 

Emma visibly deflated.

 

Regina continued, “That's quite the burden he's placed on the woman who so callously tossed him away.” Emma opened her mouth to object, but the Mayor was on a roll. “So, my dear, unless you're somehow planning to break a nonexistent curse, you hold no value here. Eventually Henry will realize that and see you for who you really are.” Regina didn't clarify what she meant by that, but Mary Margaret noticed Emma pale when she said it. The Mayor straightened her blazer and added, “Why get attached when soon enough you'll hold no more interest to him, than the drum set gathering dust in my basement? Wouldn't it be best to cut your losses now?”

 

Emma looked speechless, her mouth a gap.

 

“Close your mouth dear, you'll catch flies.”

 

“Mom? Emma?” Henry had returned, now dressed in a clean blue tee-shirt and jeans. “Is everything okay?”

 

“Or course sweetheart,” Regina replied, her voice much softer. She ran her fingers over his hair, straightening his bangs. “Ms. Swan and I were just discussing how beautiful coastal Maine can be this time a year.” She turned back to Emma. “If you're really interested in that boat tour, you should try Portland. I hear Casco Bay is quite lovely.” She dropped a hand on Henry's shoulder. “Well, we really shouldn't keep you any longer. You have a long drive ahead of you, after all. Say goodbye Henry.”

 

“Emma? You're leaving?” The boy looked ready to panic.

 

Mary Margaret turned to the blonde. Any confidence she'd had in dealing with Regina seemed to have vanished after the Mayor's monologue. Emma looked down at Henry sadly. “Yeah, Kid.” She knelt down to his level. “I probably won't see you again.”

 

Henry launched himself at the blonde, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. “But you have to stay!” He stopped short of explaining why, though based on Regina's eye roll, she'd understood his urgency. Emma, for her part, didn't look particularly comfortable with the unexpected hug. She patted Henry's on the back a few times, clearly unsure what else to do to make him feel better.

 

“Henry,” Regina said, a slight edge to her voice. “It's time to go.”

 

Emma released Henry and stood up. “You're a good kid. You're going to be fine.”

 

Henry looked as though he wanted to protest, but Regina was already guiding him to the door. “Ms. Blanchard, Ms. Swan,” she said over her shoulder, in lieu of a proper good bye. As the boy's mother pulled open the door to the diner, Mary Margaret heard her ask of her son, “So, what would you like for dinner tonight?”

 

She did not hear a reply.

 

Emma turned, watching them through the front window until they disappeared from sight behind the wall of the Storybrooke Pet Shelter. She dropped back onto the cushioned seat of the booth, her eyes locked on the red leather jacket next to her.

 

Mary Margaret really couldn't think of anything to say. Thankfully, Ruby didn't have that problem. She approached them, sans apron, now dressed in tight black leather pants and a red halter top. “You two look like you could use a drink.” She wiggled her eyebrows.

 

Emma didn't react.

 

Mary Margaret looked up at Ruby. “I don't think so Ruby.” She ignored the waitress' pout, adding, “You know I'm up early and Emma's driv-”

 

“Actually,” Emma cut her off. The blonde looked up at Ruby. “Count me in.”

 

“Really,” Mary Margaret blurted. “You're sure?”

 

“Off course she is!” Ruby looked ecstatic. “Come on Mary Margaret. Now you have to come! It's just one night.”

 

They were both looking at her.

 

Two against one.

 

So unfair.

 

Although, now that she thought about it, it had been a while since she'd gone out...

 

“Okay, but only one drink,” Mary Margaret caved. “And I'm home by nine o'clock.”

 

“Scouts honor,” Ruby promised, grabbing Mary Margaret's arm and tugging her out of the booth before she could question whether or not the waitress had ever actually been a girl scout.

 

They took Ruby's vintage Camaro, with Emma and Mary Margaret sharing the back seat (the front was reserved for another friend of Ruby's; a foreign woman who had apparently just reopened the previously defunct clock tower library).

 

Emma was quiet for the entire trip to the bar, making Mary Margaret wonder why she'd agreed to come at all. She didn't dwell on it for very long though. Once the first drinks arrived, the conversation and laughter flowed quite easily. When Mary Margaret left at nine-thirty, Ruby and Emma were still playing pool. They looked like old friends.

 

It had been a wonderful night, Mary Margaret concluded when she arrived home. Really, the most fun she'd had in a long time. While she doubted Emma would stay another day, she was happy to have met the blonde. In another world, they surely would have been great friends.

 

[to be continued]


	5. The Cow in Apple TIme

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own an extensive collection of digital Buffy comics (Thanks Dark Horse!), but not Once Upon a Time or any of these characters.
> 
> A/N: I tried to get this up before the premiere, but alas, ear wax. Dumbledore jokes aside, I'm really going to try to update on a regular schedule. How regular the schedule ends up being, is still up in the air. However, gentle reader, take solace in the fact that this is an Emma POV chapter! YAY! See end of chapter notes for info on what's coming up in future updates. Also I gave Gold a first name. Just because.

* * *

_Something inspires the only cow of late_

_To make no more of a wall than an open gate,_

_And think no more of wall-builders than fools._

_Her face is flecked with pomace and she drools_

_A cider syrup. Having tasted fruit,_

_She scorns a pasture withering to the root._

_She runs from tree to tree where lie and sweeten_

_The windfalls spiked with stubble and worm-eaten._

_She leaves them bitten when she has to fly._

_She bellows on a knoll against the sky._

_Her udder shrivels and the milk goes dry._

 

_-Robert Frost_

* * *

**Emma**

 

 **Tuesday October 25** **th** **6:12am**

 

This was the part that Emma hated. The waking up part, with the inevitable day-after regret (and nausea) that accompanied a night spent indulging in way too much alcohol.

 

She burped.

 

“Urgh.”

 

Her eyes remained tightly shut, as she waited for the mattress underneath her to stop moving. She was exhausted, and unsurprisingly, she felt like shit. Her neck was stiff, her back was sore, and her mouth tasted like she'd licked an ashtray. She groaned with that realization, because it meant that she'd probably finished off the last of her 'emergency' pack. Again. She really needed to quit for good. It was getting too expensive to keep the habit, especially now that Boston upped the cost to nine bucks a pack.

 

Another wave of nausea hit her hard, making her wonder exact what she'd been drinking. And with whom? There were only a few possible suspects, Ben and Tiffany from across the hall making up two-thirds of the list. Maybe the duo had finally made good on their promise to drag her out, against her will. They'd practically been stalking her.

 

She really did hated her neighbors.

 

The sound of retching broke through the silence of her bedroom.

 

Emma frowned into her pillow, trying to piece together why either Ben or Tiff would have stayed the night. They must have had a fight, dragging her in the middle of it. Then one or both of them probably got completely plastered and was now puking his/her guts out all over her bathroom.

 

_They better fucking clean that up._

 

Thankfully, the vomiting stopped fairly quickly.

 

Emma stretched against the mattress, wincing at the squeaking of old springs. She hated that noise. It was so grating, like that sound made when the button on your jeans scrapped against the inside of the dryer. Literally the worst noise ever. When she'd moved back to Boston, she'd immediately chucked the old spring mattress that came with her place and bought a brand new Tempur Pedic. It was the only thing she'd splurged on during the move and it had definitely been worth it. She loved her bed.

 

Which begged the question...

 

_Where the hell's my mattress?_

 

She carefully opened her eyes, expecting pain from the morning light. None came. The room was mostly dark, only lit by a sliver of fluorescent lighting that came from a crack in the bathroom door.

 

Emma blinked a few times. She was facing a wall and could barely make out a floral print wallpaper that must have gone out of style thirty years ago.

 

 _Better question. Where the hell am_ _**I** _ _?_

 

She closed her eyes again, searching for her memory. Work had consumed all of her time recently, the last few weeks having been spent tracking down some douchebag embezzler who skipped out on his family. She'd found the dick by using an online dating site, agreeing to meet him at an upscale downtown restaurant. It wasn't the best date she'd ever been on, but it had ended well, with her pounding his face into the steering wheel of his rented Porsche. All in all, it not the worst birthday she'd ever had.

 

So why than, was she now lying in the bedroom that time forgot? Hadn't she gone right home after her 'date?' Had Ben and Tiff cornered her when she got there?

 

No it wasn't them.

 

She struggled to remember. Someone else had come to her door. It was...

 

_Oh shit._

 

She wasn't in Boston anymore. She had followed her so-

 

Henry.

 

She had followed Henry to some podunk town in coastal Maine, dropped him off at his castle of a house, and then had the pleasure of being interrogated by his overbearing mother. After that, came three failed attempts at leaving town, culminating with a boozy night of Tequila shots with Henry's teacher, Ruby the waitress, and some Aussie librarian.

 

_What the fuck was I thinking?_

 

Clearly she hadn't been.

 

Emma curled up on her side, covering her eyes with her forearm. There was absolutely no reason for her to have stayed past that first night, and certainly no reason to go out drinking with a group of people she'd just met. Sure, they had been nice enough, Mary Margaret especially, but no. Just no. She wasn't _that_ person.

 

Feeling the need to blame someone else for her current state, Emma thought of the one who had set all this in motion. The real culprit of her alcohol induced misery.

 

Regina Mills.

 

Henry's adoptive mother.

 

And the Queen bitch of Storybrooke.

 

This was all her fault.

 

The woman might as well have driven her to that bar and bought the first round, after sauntering into Granny's and monologing like she was auditioning to be the next Bond villain. And the worst part? Her hurtful words had been completely right.

 

Henry expected Emma to be someone she wasn't -- a mother or a savior or whatever it was that he needed -- and the longer she stayed in town, the sooner he would realize that she could never fill that roll for him. She couldn't be his hero. She would only disappoint him. And that... that would hurt more than any of Regina's cruel words. That would hurt more than anything.

 

_Henry._

 

He had hugged her yesterday. And it was-

 

_No wonder I went out drinking._

 

She groaned again.

 

Regina may have been right, but Emma still found solace in blaming her for the inevitable hangover she'd be facing in a few hours. She smiled, thinking of how frustrated the Mayor would be to learn she was still in town.

 

And she would.

 

The Bug was still parked on Main street, right in front of that old pawn shop. That's to it's paint job, the car was impossible to miss and given Emma's current inebriated state, there was no chance she was getting out of town before the Mayor passed it on her way into work. She was going to be so pissed.

 

Emma found that thought extremely satisfying. It was rare that someone got under her skin so quickly, but Regina Mills had managed it at their first meeting. And in the day and half since, Emma's opinion of her had not improved.

 

It wasn't just one thing either, it was everything about the woman. The way she dressed. The way she moved. The way she spoke. Like some goddamn nobility, lording over the peasants. Emma knew the type. She'd known them her whole life. They were the ones that would visit the group homes she lived in between foster families, shopping for children like they were picking out a puppy. Yuppies, who would flock to her, the cute little blonde princess.

 

Emma hated them. All of them. But, she had to pretend. To be perfect for them, because maybe they would like her. Maybe they would take her away. They never did, though. They always left her. No one wanted to adopt a six year old. They only ever wanted to babies. The innocent ones. The one's not tainted by the system.

 

Yes, Emma knew exactly who Regina Mill was; a rich thirty-something who spent a ton of money to adopt a baby.

 

Her baby.

 

To build the perfect family. The kind that Emma always wanted as a child, but could never have.

 

Henry might not see it, but he was one of the lucky ones. He'd always had a home and a mother who would never give him up or send him away. She loved hi-

 

“Mmmm,” someone moaned next to her.

 

Emma froze as the bed shifted with a grating squeak. Her eyes went wide as a bare foot brushed against her equally bare leg, rubbing along her calf.

 

_What. The. Fuck._

 

The moaning continued.

 

Emma could tell it was a woman.

 

On her bed.

 

A woman was on her bed, moaning.

 

...and she seemed to have misplaced her pants.

 

 _Oh God._ _What did I do?_

 

Emma slowly rolled onto her back, nearly colliding with the warm body. They were so close. Too close. She could barely make out the woman, the light from the bathroom just illuminating a pile of messy brown hair on the pillow next to her.

 

_Is that?_

 

“No,” she said in a scratchy tone. “R-Regina?”

 

Her guess really made no sense, but the hair was the right color and the woman _had_ just been on her mind.

 

The body next to her froze... then started to laugh.

 

“Try again,” the mystery brunette replied, with an equally raspy tone.

 

Emma recognized the voice immediately: Ruby.

 

She felt like an idiot. Of course it was Ruby. They'd been drinking together all night. When the bar closed, they probably stumbled back to her room because it was so close.

 

“Sorry Ruby,” Emma replied as she sat up, too fast. The room went back to spinning.

 

“No worries,” the Ruby replied, as she and her leather clad backside rolled off the mattress.

 

_Good, she's still dressed._

 

“We didn't... uh...” Emma couldn't vocalize the rest of her thought. She looked around, trying to find her jeans.

 

Ruby laughed again, tossing the missing pants onto the bed. “Afraid not babe. Trust me, if we did, you'd remember.” Emma watched her move about the room, collecting her possessions. “You're not really my type anyway,” the brunette added as she sat down on the edge of the bed to zip up her boots. “But maybe I'm yours,” she said, waggling her eyebrows. “You were flirting with me all night.”

 

“Sorry,” Emma said as she stood to put on her jeans. The room hadn't stopped spinning and her balance was... bad. “It's something I do when I get really drunk.”

 

Ruby's boots clicked a path to the bathroom. “No worries,” she called behind her. “Though piece of advice. It's probably not a good idea to try that with Mayor Mills. I realize she's smokin' hot, but I got the impression she hates your guts.”

 

Emma nearly fell over, one leg still out of her pants. “What about the Mayor?”

 

Ruby's head came into view from inside the bathroom. “You're not into her?”

 

“No!” Emma nearly shouted.

 

“Then why'd were you complaining about her all night.”

 

“Because she's the devil!”

 

“Uh huh,” Ruby said in an infuriating tone. “Is that why you said her name a minute ago like you expected her to be lying next to you?”

 

Emma's eyes grew wide. “I'm still drunk. I don't know what I'm saying.”

 

“Whatever you say.” Ruby ducked out of sight, into the bathroom.

 

Emma nearly fell back onto the bed as she finished pulling on her jeans. She stumbled after Ruby intent on telling the girl off for daring to assume she could be interested in Regina Mills.

 

“Ruby, I'm no-” She stopped when she reached the entrance to the bathroom and spotted Ruby kneeling over something, someone. It was the librarian. What was her name? Lacey? The girl was lying in the bathtub with one arm draped over the side, completely passed out.

 

“I've got good news and bad news,” Ruby said as she folded a towel several times, making a neat rectangle.

 

“Bad news first,” Emma said closing her eyes and praying there wasn't a dead librarian in her bathtub.

 

“Well, unfortunately, she missed the toilet,” Ruby said, indicating a pile of sick near Emma's foot. She pushed the towel behind Lacey's head.

 

The blonde looked down and frowned. “What's the good news?”

 

“Granny just hired a maid, so neither of us have to deal with that.”

 

“Isn't she still going to charge me a cleaning fee or something?”

 

The brunette thought for a moment. “Probably.” She grabbed another towel and covered the mess. “Maybe, don't mention it to her when you check out.”

 

“So noted,” Emma said, leaving the bathroom, suddenly exhausted with this whole situation. She collapsed back onto the bed and looked at the ancient alarm clock on the nightstand. It was just after six o'clock. She wondered how Ruby was even functioning.

 

“I've got to get ready for work,” the girl-in-question said, running her fingers through her hair. “Can you make sure Lacey doesn't puke all over herself?”

 

“No promises,” Emma mumbled into her pillow.

 

What she really wanted to do was kick them both out and sleep until noon.

 

She heard Ruby grab her purse and open the door. “Later Emma. Stop by the diner before you leave town, 'kay.”

 

The blonde was asleep before Ruby closed the door.

* * *

 

When she woke again, the sun had completely risen. Emma shielded her eyes against the late morning light and rolled off of her stomach. Her nausea was gone, replaced by the predicted throbbing pain around her temples. “Never again,” she groaned glancing at the alarm clock. It was just after eleven o'clock. Doing some quick math, Emma guessed she wouldn't be able to make it back to Boston until a half past four that evening; five if she wanted to take a shower beforehand. She ran her fingers through her hair.

 

_Definitely need to shower._

 

Grabbing her phone off the nightstand, she checked to see if she had any new messages. There were no calls, but there was a text message from Mary Margaret.

 

Emma frowned. The school teacher's contact information had been added to her phone. Someone must have commandeered her cell at the bar. She guessed there were probably several embarrassing photos on the device as well. She sighed and clicked on the text, which read: 'Hope you had fun last night. I know you'll be heading back today, but keep my cell phone number. I would love to stay in touch.'

 

Emma looked at the ceiling, unsure what to think about Henry's teacher. She was very nice. Too nice, really, though not necessarily in a bad way. She was the kind of person that was only content when everyone else around her was happy. Completely empathetic. A wonderful listener. And very caring. The perfect friend, really.

 

Emma hesitated for a few seconds and then deleted both the text and Mary Margaret's contact info from her phone. She felt mildly bad about it, but she didn't do friendships. Relationships like that got too messy. And, besides, she didn't plan on returning to town. Henry had a nice, safe home here in Storybrooke. The fairy tale thing was weird, but then most kids his age were still talking to imaginary friends. He just had an active imagination. And he had a therapist to help him through it. If she stayed, it would just make things worse.

 

_He'll be fine._

 

Emma got off the bed and looked around the room. It wasn't a complete disaster. She hadn't brought any extra clothing with her so there wasn't anything to pack. Her jacket was hanging on the back a of chair.

 

She walked into the bathroom, thanking God almighty that the tub was empty; Lacey must have left while she was still sleeping. Emma started the shower and let the tub rinse while she filled a glass of water at the sink and downed it in three gulps. Her head was still pounding, but she didn't have an aspirin. She hoped the water would be enough.

 

Just as she was searching the cabinets for a spare toothbrush, a loud knock sounded through the small room. Emma turned off the shower and re-entered the bedroom.

 

“Ms. Swan?” Ruby's grandmother called through the door. “Are you awake?”

 

Emma ran her fingers through her hair, straightening it as best she could, and then pulled open the door. “Hey Mrs. Lucas. I was about to come down. I just wanted to grab a shower before I checked out.”

 

The elderly woman looked very uncomfortable. “I'm afraid I need you to check out now.”

 

“Right now? I can't wait a half hour?”

 

The woman shook her head. “I just received a call from the Mayor's office...”

 

“Oh, really.” Emma leaned against the door frame.

 

“Some legislators from the state assembly are coming for a week of meetings with the Mayor,” Mrs. Lucas explained. “They'll be arriving in town at two o'clock and I need to have all the rooms ready by then.”

 

Emma wondered if Ruby's grandmother knew just how ridiculous that sounded. “The state assembly, huh? That's what she's going with?” Emma could only laugh. She grabbed her jacket and slid it over her shoulders. “You realize no one's coming, right?

 

“I'm sorry about this.” The older woman looked genuinely sad as she took the key from Emma.

 

“It's fine,” the blonde assured her. “I should have left that first night.”

 

Emma was done with Storybrooke.

 

“Do you have all your belongings?” Mrs. Lucas asked as they stepped into the hall.

 

Emma did a quick inventory of her pockets (she never liked to carry a purse as they were too easy to lose or have stolen). She checked off each item in her head. She had her phone, car keys, drivers license, and the small wallet she carried for travel. Positive that nothing was missing, she shut the door and followed Ms. Lucas downstairs.

 

“I hope you enjoyed your stay in Storybrooke,” Mrs. Lucas said as they reached the front desk.

 

“Sure,” Emma said, not even attempting to disguise her displeasure with the town. “I had a blast.” She opened her wallet and pulled out her Visa card.

 

“I'm sorry, it's cash only,” Ruby's grandmother said.

 

“Of course it is,” the blonde sighed, going back to her wallet. She extracted a lonely five dollar bill.

 

_What the hell?_

 

Emma emptied the contents of her wallet onto the counter, then added her jacket's, and then her jeans'. It was all gone. All her cash. She was missing close to three hundred dollars; a small portion of the emergency fund she kept well hidden in her apartment back in Boston. The events of the previous night were still hazy, but Emma distinctly remembered paying for her drinks. And she definitely hadn't spent all that money on tequila. She wracked her brain, trying to understand what could have happened. The wallet hadn't moved from her jacket after she left the bar. It had been locked in the room upstairs where no one could have-

 

“Shit,” Emma breathed.

 

“Is there a problem?” Mrs. Lucas asked, frowning at the obscenity.

 

_Yeah. Your granddaughter and her friend ripped me off._

 

“Is there an ATM in town?”

 

“At the bank. It's just behind the post office. You can't miss it.”

 

“Then I'll be right back,” Emma said stepping away from the counter.

 

“Ms. Swan!” Mrs. Lucas stopped her. “You'll need to leave your car keys.”

 

Emma didn't question it. She just tossed her keys on the counter and left without another word.

* * *

 

The trip to and from the bank didn't take long and Ruby's grandmother was nice enough to cut her a break, only charging her half price for the second night due to the hasty eviction. Once the bill was settled and her car keys were back in hand, Emma headed toward Main Street to pick up the Bug. She'd briefly considered confronting Ruby about the missing money, but doubted the girl would know much about it. Something told her it was Lacey who had the sticky fingers, and Emma didn't want to deal with that hot mess. At this point she just wanted to get the hell out of town.

 

She cut through the alley that ran along the side of Granny's, avoiding goodbyes from any familiar face who might be lurking inside the diner. Laying eyes on Main street, Emma stopped abruptly. She looked up and down the street, but her yellow bug was nowhere in sight. It had been parked in front of the pawn shop, but now...

 

_That's just fucking perfect._

 

Emma took a deep and calming breath, that did jack shit. She wanted to break something. It had been years since fate had decided to rain this much shit down on her head in such a short span of time. Two days ago she was content with her life in Boston. And now? Now she was stuck in an episode of the X-Files. In less than forty-eight hours the son she'd given up for adoption had found her, cast her as the hero of his fairy tale fantasy, introduced her to her long lost mother (who was only two years older than her), and charged her with fixing his life and/or replacing his evil witch of a mother. Probably both.

 

Then, to top it all off, she's been robbed by a _librarian_ and now her fucking car was gone – the irony of which was not lost on her.

 

She kicked the wooden specials board sitting in front of the Granny's diner, knocking it over.

 

“Hey!” called the only member of the local law enforcement. He approached her quickly. “Emma are you alright?”

 

“Not a good time, Sheriff,” she seethed walking away from him, a new purpose burning inside her.

 

“What's wrong?” he asked, trailing after her like a lost puppy.

 

“Go away.” She increased her pace.

 

He hurried to catch up to her, grabbing her arm. “Not when you look ready to do some damage.”

 

Emma pulled her arm free. “Unless you plan on arresting me for assaulting a couple of planks of wood, your services aren't needed here.”

 

She continued on her way, speeding up a bit. She didn't even entertain the thought of asking the Sheriff for help. She knew exactly why her car was missing. It was the same reason she'd been so unceremoniously thrown out of Granny's Bed and Breakfast. The same reason Henry had shown up on her doorstep. The same reason she'd agreed to do shots with a bunch of strangers. It all came down to one person.

 

“Where are you going?” He asked, still trailing her.

 

“To lodge a complaint with the local government.”

* * *

 

The journey to City Hall was quick. Emma didn't say a word to the Sheriff, who continued to try to talk her out of doing anything rash... like punching the Mayor in the face.

 

She didn't listen to his appeals to her good sense. Her good sense was on holiday. She officially no longer gave a shit. She could remember only one other time in her life when she had been this angry at another human being and at the time she'd been incarcerated, unable to take out her angry on the source of her rage. But now? Now, the only thing in her way was Sheriff skinny jeans, and there was no way he was going to stop her from going to war.

 

“She's in a meeting! You can't just go in!” The Mayor's secretary said in near panic, as Emma stormed through the small waiting room. “Ms. Swan, please!”

 

Breezing past the girl, Emma pushed open the Mayor's door and entered the office, not once breaking her stride.

 

The Mayor rose from her chair immediately, her eyes wide with shock. “Ms Swan? What do you think you're doing?” She remained safely behind the desk, protected against face punches.

 

“You're a real peace of work. You know that?” Emma commented, placing both palms on the Mayor's desk.

 

The brunette's eyes looked past Emma's shoulder. “Graham, what is this?”

 

“I'm not sure,” he said. “Emma's a bit upset.”

 

“Yes, I can see that.” Her gaze swept over Emma. “Is she armed?”

 

“Where is it?” Emma demanded, ignoring the comment.

 

“Where's what dear?”

 

“I don't get you.” She shook her head at the infuriating woman. “I'm trying to leave town. Isn't that what you want?”

 

“By all means, go. No one is stopping you.”

 

“Where's my car?”

 

The Mayor's eye's flashed with confusion. “How would I know where you keep that eye sore?”

 

“Because you had it towed,” Emma supplied. “Or impounded. Or crushed into a cube.”

 

“I did no such thing,” the Mayor snarled. “I have no interest if you or your time in this town.”

 

Emma snorted, “Bull shit. You just had me thrown out of Granny's.”

 

“Mrs. Lucas is an independent business owner. If she's overbooked her rooms, that's hardly any concern of mine.”

 

“I'm not an idiot Regina.”

 

“All evidence to the contrary.”

 

“WHERE'S MY CAR?”

 

“I. DON'T. KNOW.”

 

“Ladies,” called a calm, male voice to Emma's left. “Perhaps _I_ can settle this.”

 

Emma turned to see a thin, middle aged man with an expensive looking cane and an even more expensive looking suit, seated in one of the chairs that faced the Mayor's desk. She hadn't noticed him when she barged in, but...

 

She knew him from somewhere. He had been at the diner the day before. Hadn't he said her name? Is that why he looked so familiar? No, she knew him from somewhere else.

 

“How do I know you?” Emma asked, her anger dissipating as quickly as it had arrived, replaced by confusion and curiosity. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the Mayor and Sheriff exchanging a look.

 

The man stood up, his right hand firmly clutching his cane. “You don't. Aedon Gold.” He did not move to shake her hand.

 

Emma stared at him. “You own the pawn shop.” She recognized his name from the sign. “The one I parked my car in front of...”

 

_Shit._

 

“Yes, I do. And I'm sorry to say, I had to have your car removed.” He didn't look particularly sorry. “I'm sure you understand. It was there for over a day and I have limited customer parking.”

 

Emma noticed the Mayor sit back down, crossing her arms over her chest. She shot the blonde a look that screamed, 'What else you got?'

 

When Emma didn't say anything, the Sheriff stepped forward, addressing Mr. Gold. “Did Michael tow the car?” He was clearly trying to help what had quickly snowballed into one of the most embarrassing moments of Emma's life.

 

Mr. Gold nodded.

 

“I can show you where to pick it up Emma.” Graham placed a hand on her arm.

 

Emma took a deep breath. The Mayor was still staring at her, which really was not helping. She faced the woman and gritted her teeth. “I'm sorry.”

 

“Oh, don't worry about it, dear. We all make mistakes _._ ” The Mayor smiled. “And now that that mystery has been solved, perhaps I can help.” She turned to the Sheriff. “Graham, have Michael wave the towing fee for Ms. Swan's car. Tell him it's a personal favor to me.”

 

“You don't have to do that.”

 

“I insist.”

 

Emma looked down at the desk, unable to take anymore of the woman's smug expression. “Fine. Thank you.”

 

She turned to leave but stopped. Her gaze found a pile of files on the Mayor's desk. Eye's wide, she stared at her own name handwritten across the surface of a closed manila folder. She recognized the seal of the Arizona Department of Corrections. Was that her prison record?

 

_What the fuck?_

 

“Is that-”

 

“Graham, would you please show Ms. Swan to Michael's garage?” the Mayor cut her off, causally sliding the stack of folders off her desk and into a drawer.

 

Emma wasn't particularly happy with the dismissal. “What the hell was that Regina? How did you get that? Those records are sealed.”

 

The Mayor ignored her, continuing her commands to the Sheriff, “And once she's obtained her car, then please escort her to the town line.”

 

“I asked you a question.” Emma demanded.

 

“Graham,” the Mayor insisted. “I have a busy schedule.”

 

The Sheriff looked at Emma sadly. “I'm sorry Emma. It's time to go.”

* * *

 

Michael hadn't been thrilled about waving the towing fee, but the Sheriff had insisted. Thankfully, Emma had been able to get her car back with only a few scratches to the drivers side door. It looked like the auto mechanic had used a coat hanger to unlock the door.

 

She sighed as she drove the Bug past the Storybrooke sign. In the rear view mirror she could still see the police cruiser that had escorted her. She watched as the Sheriff turned the vehicle around, and headed back into town.

 

Once he was out of sight, Emma took out her phone and dialed a familiar number.

 

After two rings Joe picked up, which surprised Emma. Her boss had a habit of letting his personal cellphone calls go to voice mail while he was at work.

 

“Emma?” He sounded worried. “Where have you been?”

 

“Hello to you too Joseph.” When he didn't reply she added, “I'm in Maine.”

 

Pause.

 

“What the hell for?”

 

She sighed. “It's a long story, but I'm driving back to Boston now.” He didn't need anymore details than that.

 

“You moonlighting?”

 

“No. I'm not working at the moment. Actually, I might need to take some time off in the next few weeks.”

 

Another pause.

 

“Everything okay?”

 

“Yes. No. I don't know yet, but I'm going to find out.” She pulled onto route 22. “Look Joe, I need a favor.” When he didn't inquire further, she went on. “I need to you look into someone for me.”

 

She heard him sigh. “Emma, I like you, but you know I don't take personal stuff. And even if I did, I got too much going on right now to spare anyone. Especially if you're taking time off.”

 

“I was actually hoping _you_ could do this one for me, Joe. Off the books.”

 

The longest pause yet.

 

“Are you in trouble?”

 

“No. I promise I'm not.”

 

She heard a tapping sound and smiled. Joe had a habit of banging his pencil against his desk when he was about to cave to one of her requests.

 

“Who is this person?”

 

Knowing that her boss had two kids he didn't see all that much, she opted for the truth. “It's the woman that adopted my kid.”

 

“Emma, that's not a good idea.”

 

“I know how it sounds Joe, but I just need to make sure that he'll be okay with her.”

 

It wasn't the whole truth, exactly, but Joe didn't need to know that. Emma wanted ammunition because the if Mayor had sealed prison records, then she was well behind the eight ball.

 

Since Emma was only seventeen when she was arrested, her public defender pushed the DA not to charge her as an adult. He argued that she was only an accomplice, after the fact, and that an adult conviction would greatly hinder her future job prospects. The district attorney had acquiesced and her juvenile record was sealed when she got out, just after her eighteenth birthday.

 

Emma didn't know how Regina got her hands on that file, but just knowing that the woman had it really pissed her off. A lot. For that reason, she felt no qualms about asking Joe (who really was the best at this type of thing) to go on a little scavenger hunt. If he didn't find anything then she'd leave it alone, content with the knowledge that Henry was in good hands.

 

But if he found something... well she'd cross that bridge when she came to it.

 

The tapping stopped. “I may not get to this for a few weeks.”

 

“That's fine. I figured that would be the case.” She hesitated. “I'd do it myself, but you and I both know your the best in the business.”

 

He sighed, “Yeah, yeah. Alright, what's her name?”

 

“Regina Mills,” Emma scowled into her phone. “She's the Mayor of a town called Storybrooke.”

 

[to be continued]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Up: Henry and Halloween. Of note, I've mapped out the next ten or so chapters and Regina's first POV will be coming up shortly. Probably chapter nine.


	6. On Going Unnoticed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own a penny from 1906, but not Once Upon a Time or any of these characters.
> 
> A/N: I realize it's legitimately been forever since I've updated (not exaggerating), but, in my defense, I was extremely busy being sick, while I worked so much overtime, before my trip to Belize, where my laptop broke, just after I had re-edited this chapter for the 6th time. Also, writing is hard. So really this is all Obama's fault.
> 
> Anyway, this chapter took me a while to figure out, but I'm pretty happy with it now. Also, take note! I've gone back and made some minor changes to the previous chapters (typos and such) and I've included a date at the start of each chapter to help orient you all to the time line I'm trying to establish. Lastly, I'd like to take this moment to show my great sorrow over the passing of the Oxford comma. It will be mourned, avenged and quickly forgotten. And now, a poem!

* * *

_As vain to raise a voice as a sigh_

_In the tumult of free leaves on high._

_What are you, in the shadow of trees_

_Engaged up there with the light and breeze?_

 

_Less than the coralroot, you know,_

_That is content with the daylight low,_

_And has no leaves at all of its own;_

_Whose spotted flowers hang meanly down._

 

_You grasp the bark by rugged pleats,_

_And look up small from the forest's feet._

_The only leaf it drops goes wide,_

_Your name not written on either side._

 

_You linger your little house and are gone,_

_And still the woods sweep leafily on,_

_Not even missing the coral root flower_

_You took as trophy of the hour._

 

_-Robert Frost_

 

* * *

 

 

**Henry**

 

**Sunday October 30** **th** **12:47am**

 

Someone was shaking him.

 

No.

 

Someone was shaking his bed.

 

Henry opened his eyes and sat up, nearly toppling onto the floor as his mattress lurched sideways. He grabbed a fist full of sheets and sunk low on the bed, fighting for balance, as he watched a row of encyclopedia’s fly from their home on his bookshelf and land in a jumbled heap on the carpeted floor. Seconds later his record player joined the books, as it toppled off it's stand, landing with a loud crash.

 

“HENRY!”

 

His bedroom door burst open, hitting his desk's wooden chair with a loud crack. Henry squinted at the bright hallway light, making out a familiar silhouette.

 

“Mom?”

 

In a flash she was through the entrance and had pulled him forcefully him from the bed. Before he could think, he found himself pushed to the floor and shoved roughly against the hard frame of the door. Henry tried to get up, but his mother was there, kneeling over him and using her arms to pin him in place.

 

“What's going on?” he yelled over the cacophony of toppling furniture and shattering glass. He continued to struggle in her arms, as the house shook beneath them.

 

“It's going to be okay,” she said into his ear, still gripping him tightly.

 

Henry stopped fighting her when the hall lights flickered off, leaving them in the pitch black. He shut his eyes against the darkness and waited, focusing on the sound of his mother's short and ragged breaths. He gripped her arm tightly, remembering a terrifying afternoon just after his fifth birthday that was spent hiding in cabinet beneath the kitchen sink, as a late summer thunderstorm raged outside, shaking the the whole house.

 

This was worse.

 

Eye's shut firmly against the darkness and noise, he waited. And waited. And waite-

 

“Henry,” his mother said softly. She slowly began the process of easing out of his grasp. “Honey, it's over.”

 

Her words confused him because he still felt like his body was shaking. When he finally opened his eyes, he blinked against the harsh, bright light of her cell phone. She quickly pointed it at the floor.

 

“Are you hurt?” she asked, her tone shifting to what he thought of as her 'mayor voice.'

 

“I'm fine,” Henry said, hoping she didn't hear the tremor in his speech. He tried to stand.

 

“Wait,” she commanded, bringing the light to his face for a second or two before passing it over the rest of his body.

 

“You're not fine!” Now she sounded angry. She grabbed his shirt roughly and pulled at his left arm. “You're bleeding.”

 

He looked down to see a long red streak along the sleeve of his Hulk pajamas.

 

_But it doesn't hurt._

 

She pulled at the material until his whole arm was visible, but there was no blood. His skin was still clean from his evening bath.

 

“Mom.” His eyes were on her right knee where there was a rip in her blue pajamas. “I think it's you.”

 

Her eyebrows narrowed in confusion, but followed his gaze to her leg. They both watched a crimson drop fall onto the floor.

 

“I can get the first aid kit,” he offered, once again trying to stand.

 

“No,” she answered quickly, pushing him back down. She looked away from him, her eye's zeroing in on something under his bed. He watched her reach to her left and then grunted when his sneakers landed in his lap. “Put these on. Then you may stand.”

 

She stood and shined the light on the floor.

 

“You're not wearing any,” he pointed at her bare feet.

 

“Henry, do as I say,” she said glaring down at him. “Put your shoes on and don't move until I come back.”

 

When he nodded, she stepped carefully into the hallway and stood near the banister, looking down at the lower landing. He heard a disappointed sigh before she moved out of view down the hall to her bedroom.

 

Henry used her momentary absence as an excuse to look into his room. It was hard to see since she had taken the light with her, but he could tell that the floor was a mess. It seemed as though every book, action figure, and collectable he owned had fallen from his book shelf. He frowned at the sight of his favorite antique mantel clock and the cracked glass that marred it's face.

 

_Maybe Marco can fix it_.

 

He got to work pulling on his sneakers and was just knotting the rabbit ears of his second shoe when he heard a phone ring. As he rose to his feet his mother returned. She was now dressed in a pair of black jeans, a blue sweater, and tennis shoes.

 

She stepped past him, a large flashlight in one hand and her cell phone held to her ear with the other.

 

“Did they say how many homes were out, Graham?” She looked down at Henry and motioned for him to follow, using the flashlight to guide their path down the stairs.

 

“What about the residential streets west of Maple?”

 

Henry could make out the muffled voice of the Sheriff on the other end of his mother's cellphone.

 

“What? No, they'll have a generator backup,” she sighed. “Yes, I'll call.”

 

While the stairs were easily visible from the moonlight that shown through the large bay window on the front of the house, Henry kept a tight grip on the bannister as they descended. He didn't want to fall should the shaking start again. When they reached the hard wood of the lower landing, he could see that the first floor had not fared much better than his bedroom. The pair of end tables that stood quard on either side of the dinning room had toppled over -- the vases they held were smashed on the floor -- and the picture frames that lined the wall had all fallen to the wood below, the glass shattered.

 

“Okay, just let me know when you have the exact numbers,” she told her phone, as they moved past the mess on the floor and into her study. “Have you called in your volunteer deputies yet?” She pointed at the sofa and mouthed, 'sit down.'

 

He opened his mouth to argue, but the look she shot him made him changed his mind. He sat down and scanned the room.

 

It was dark, but the light from the flashlight provided enough illumination for him to see some of the damage. The floor was covered with his mother's thick legal books, most of which had toppled off the shelves that lined the walls. He recognized a large red volume that had always sat on her desk when he was little. The heavy book had landed awkwardly, the impact partially separating the spine from it's now crumpled pages.

 

The sight of it made Henry sad. That book always reminded him of one of his favorite memory's growing up. A foot of snow had blanketed Storybrooke, canceling preschool and pretty much shutting down the town. With both of them stuck at home, his mother had made him pancakes before retreating into the study to work from home.

 

Henry, not wanting to spend the day alone, had immediately abandoned his breakfast and run into the study ahead of her. Without preamble, he'd heaved the big red book off her desk and raced away to hide it under the bed in the quest bedroom.

 

When he'd returned downstairs, his terms were simple. No work for the day. Period. And, at the end of the day, if he deemed that they had had enough fun, then, and only then, would the book be returned to her.

 

After praising him for his keen negotiating skills, she had wisely acquiesced. At the time he had neglected to mention that those 'keen negotiating skills' mostly came from watching her during the town's monthly city council meetings, but he did share his pancakes with her. Then they'd spent the morning building a series of sentry snowman to defend the front walk (the back yard was protected by the impenetrable hedge wall). It was only time he could ever recall convincing her to help him with such a mission. Afterward they sat in the study, in front of a roaring fire, sipping homemade cocoa while she told him stories about her father, the man he had been named for.

 

Henry stood up to pick up the book, but stopped at the sound of snapping fingers. He turned to see his mother, a stern look on her face, pointing at the sofa while the Sheriff continued talking into her ear.

 

He frowned at her and sat back down.

 

“Okay Graham. Call me back in fifteen minute.” Pause. “No, not until the morning.” Another pause. “Yes. Okay. Goodbye.”

 

She ended the call, but didn't place down the phone. Henry watched her as she shined her flashlight around the room. Spotting something, she moved to her desk and leaned over to pick up a large frame that was face down on the floor. It was one of her diplomas. Craning his head, Henry could see that there was now a large crack in the glass. His mother sighed as she leaned the frame against the wall.

 

She turned to face him. “I'm going to get your blanket from upstairs.”She glanced around the room. “You can sleep down here tonight.”

 

“But Mom!”

 

“No buts. Your room is a mess and probably covered in glass.”

 

“So is down here,” he countered, pointing at the broken frame she'd just picked up.

 

She sighed. “Henry I need to make some phone calls and I want you nearby. Just please, don't question everything I ask of you.”

 

“I'm never going to fall asleep down here.”

 

She handed him the flashlight. “Maybe so, but you're going to try.” She headed for the door. “And don't even think about moving from that sofa.”

 

When she was gone, Henry removed his sneakers and leaned back against the soft leather. He didn't want to sleep. He wanted to find out what had happened. The shaking must have been an earthquake, but those didn't happen in Maine. They had studied them in class earlier in the year and Ms. Blanchard had explained all about the tectonic plates and how most earthquakes happen in California.

 

An earthquake in Storybrooke just didn't make sense. Something else must have happened.

 

His heart skipped in his chest.

 

_The curse._

 

It had to be. It was the only explanation that made sense. He already knew that the curse had been weakened by Emma's arrival in town. That much had been proven when the library clock tower had resumed chiming for the first time in the ten years he had lived in Storybrooke.

 

But, what he couldn't figure out, was why the curse would have caused an earthquake? He was pretty sure it hadn't broken because if it had, everyone would have been transported back to the Enchanted Forest. It was possible that the curse had weakened further, triggering the 'quake, but he wasn't sure what could have caused that. Not while Emma was still out of Storybrooke.

 

Henry gasped..

 

_Is she back?_

 

He needed to talk to her. He had her cell phone number upstairs, copied from Regina's own phone the day after Emma had left town. Henry's eye's darted to the house phone located on the old wooden desk, just six feet away.

 

“Here we go.”

 

He jumped at his adoptive mother's sudden reappearance. Upon seeing his reaction, she set down his pillow and blanket on the sofa next to him, knelt down to his eye level, and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Everything is going to be fine Henry.”

 

“I know,” he replied, meeting her eye.

 

She squeezed his shoulder and then turned away, lighting a candle on the small end table in front of the sofa. “I'm going to be very busy for the next few days, and we may have to cancel a few of the town's Halloween festivities, but if you'd like, I can still take you trick-or-treating tomorrow afternoon.”

 

“You don't have to,” he said, not really wanting to spend an extended period of time with Regina.

 

She sat down next to him, “I don't mind Henry. It is our tradition. And I already made your costume.” She smiled. “Peter Pan, just as you asked.”

 

“I know,” his gaze was on the flickering candle. “It's just that I'm getting kind of old for trick-or-treating.” It wasn't really a lie, and anyway, he was a prince and he was pretty sure that prince's didn't go trick-or-treating. And if they did, they didn't do it with parental supervision.

 

When her silence started to make him feel bad, he added, “Plus I bet after the earthquake, no one even remembers to buy candy.”

 

She was quiet for another long moment before finally saying, “Okay. How 'bout I save the costume for next year.” After a moment, he felt the couch shift as she stood up. He didn't look at her. “I'll just be in the other room. Please try to get some sleep, sweetheart.”

 

“I will.”

 

After she was gone, he began the task of arranging his pillow and blanket into a comfortable alternative to his bed upstairs. Now that he was alone, he really wanted to call Emma and find out if she was back in town. His eye's once again found the phone resting on Regina's desk. For a brief moment, he considered sneaking upstairs to get Emma's phone number, but then thought better of it. It was best to wait until the morning when Regina wouldn't be keeping such a close watch over him.

 

Henry leaned into his pillow and watched the shadows cast by the candle. Regina had left the study door open a crack and, after a while, he could hear her talking on her phone from the kitchen. She made a lot of phone calls, speaking to different people about 'power outages' and 'cracked roadways.'

 

Henry listened for a while, but didn't find her conversations particularly interesting.

 

Pulling his blanket tight against his chest, he closed his eyes and let his adoptive mother's voice lull him off to sleep.

 

It didn't take long.

 

* * *

 

 

When Henry woke later in the morning, he was still in the study, curled up under his blanket on the soft leather sofa. The candle on the table next to him had burned down, leaving a puddle of congealed white wax on the small round dish Regina had placed it on.

 

Pushing off his blanket, he rolled onto the floor and found his sneakers. The morning light was pouring through the large window behind the desk and he could see that Regina had been back in the study since he'd fallen asleep. All the displaced books had been collected and placed in a neat pile on the floor by the book self. The heavy red one was gone.

 

Once his shoes were tied, he left the study and entered the front hall, passing a mound of glass that had been swept into a pile along the wall. The power was back on and he could hear the sound of someone talking. Following the noise, he cut through the living room and came to a stop at the entrance to the small breakfast nook that joined the kitchen. The room was empty, but the portable television on the corner table was on and tuned to the local news station that his mother hated so much.

 

“ _...at the United States Geological Service issued a statement just after four o'clock eastern time this morning, estimating last night's earthquake as a magnitude of 5.7 on the Richter scale, making it the fifth, and most powerful, felt in Maine this year,”_ a female anchor reported as a graphic of Maine's coastline appeared on screen. A red bull's-eye materialized in the water near Storybrooke. _“Seismologist's at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology have marked the epicenter two miles east of Rockport, in West Penobscot Bay._ ” The reported pauses as the graphic disappeared. _“In a joint press conference delivered in Portland early this morning...”_

 

“Oh Henry, you're up.”

 

Turning at the sound of a familiar voice, Henry smiled at the sight of his favorite uncle standing in the kitchen, holding a steaming cup of coffee.

 

“David!” The boy rushed forward to issue their, now mandatory, super secret high five. “What are you doing here?” Henry asked after they concluded the greeting with an explosive fist bump.

 

After learning that David was both Prince Charming and his grandfather, he had been unsure how to act around the man. In fact, the first time he'd come to that shocking realization, he'd nearly fallen off of Comet while they were out on the practice yard. Now, though, he found it was easier to treat his uncle as he always had. It was much less awkward that way.

 

David stepped forward and placed his mug down on the small kitchen table, right next to a copy of the Storybrooke Mirror. “Your mom had some work to take care of at City Hall, so she asked me hang out with you today.” He explained as he grabbed the television remote and lowered the volume.

 

“Cool,” the boy replied, pleased at the prospect of a day spent with David.

 

His uncle smiled. “So, why don't I make you breakfast and then,” he pushed the comics section of the newspaper toward Henry, “I thought we might head over to the stables. How does that sound?”

 

“Sure!” Henry took the offered newspaper section and asked, “Will I be able to ride?”

 

“We'll see,” David said, before taking a sip of his coffee. “The horses were understandably upset by the earthquake.”

 

“Is Lenny okay?” Henry asked, looking up sharply from the comics.

 

“None of the horses were hurt,” David assured. “I just think they've earned a day off. ” He stepped into the kitchen, calling back behind him, “Cereal okay?”

 

“Yeah,” Henry replied as he pulled the rest of the newspaper toward himself. His eye's widened at the front page headline, which read: ' _Record 'Quake Causes Collapse of Recently Repair Clock Tower.'_ Below the title was a grainy black and white photo of the Stoyrbrooke library, or at least what was left of it. The front entrance and windows had all been blown out from the tower's collapse, debris spilling into the street.

 

“That's such a shame,” David said, as he set a bowl of Corn Flake's down in front of Henry. He sat back down and pulled the paper toward himself. “They had just gotten that thing working again.”

 

“Can we drive by on the way to the stables?” Henry asked, no longer interested in a day at the stables.

 

“Uh, sure.” David said as he flipped open the paper. “Finish up and we can go.”

 

* * *

 

 

Henry's morning wasn't going well.

 

First, he'd nearly face planted coming out of the house. David hadn't gotten a chance to warn him about the huge white pillar that had broken away from the front stoop during the night and Henry had stumbled right over it in his haste to reach his uncle's truck. They'd dragged it onto the grass shortly afterward.

 

Then, the normally ten minute trip to the stables had taken over an hour due to their detour to the library. Much to Henry's displeasure, Main Street had been blocked off just past Granny's diner (which was still open, despite a shattered front window), creating a huge traffic jam, by Storybrooke standards, and preventing them from getting a good look at the collapsed clock tower. As they'd rolled by the barricade, David had waved over volunteer Deputy Zhu, who told them that no one had even gone inside the library yet. The building was just too unstable.

 

“What about that new librarian?” David had asked. “She wasn't here when it happened, was she?”

 

“Thankfully, no,” Deputy Zhu had replied. “She was out for the night. She wasn't too happy with us, this morning, when we told her she couldn't go back up to her apartment.”

 

“I'll bet.” David had chuckled, “Alright, thanks for the info Maggie. Oh hey, if you want to earn a couple of extra bucks this afternoon, I'm going to need some help with a few repair jobs around the ranch.”

 

“Was there a lot of damage?”

 

“Yeah, unfortunately. The horses are all fine, but the roof split on the east barn and the paddock fence took a beating. The quicker I get that mended the quicker I can get the horses back out.”

 

“Okay, I'll run by when I finish up here.”

 

“Thanks Maggie.”

 

After Deputy Zhu had waved them off, the ride had been further complicated by a pair of fallen power lines and a crack through the middle of West Pine Avenue. Seeing how much damage had been done by the earthquake made Henry wonder just what would happen to the town when the curse did eventually break. He guessed that it would be completely destroyed, a thought that he quickly pushed out of his mind.

 

When they finally reached the stables, Henry had been disappointed to learn that he couldn't see any of the horses since they were still, in David's words, 'pretty spooked.'

 

Instead, his uncle had steered him to the tack room, which had come away from the earthquake about as well as his bedroom had. The usually tidy storage area was a mess of jumbled riding equipment, all of which had fallen from the wall hooks that normally kept it organized.

 

After that, Henry spent the dullest three hours of his life checking and restacking the saddles, and then separating the halters and bridles from a large tangled web on the floor. The work did nothing to distract his from his ever growing curiosity regarding the earthquake and the possibility of Emma's return to town.

 

Prior to leaving the mansion, he'd smartly collected Emma's cellphone number from it's hiding spot in his bedroom. He was now convinced that she was back in Storybrooke and he hoped that following the earthquake she would be more will to accept the reality of the curse, and her role in breaking it.

 

He really needed to talk to her.

 

“How goes it in here?”

 

The boy looked up quickly, eager for any potential distraction.

 

“Not bad,” Henry answered, as his uncle stepped into the room.

 

“Oh, it's looking good. Nicely done,” David praised. The knees of his pants were caked in mud, making Henry think that he had begun mending the paddock fence. “I was about to head into town and pick up some lunch.”

 

Henry perked up at that. “Granny's?”

 

David chuckled, “Yeah I think so, seeing that she's the only place that's open today. What do you want?”

 

“Cheeseburger and chocolate milkshake,” he said casually, hoping that David wouldn't realize that was the last thing Regina would allow him to order.

 

“You got it.” He flashed Henry a knowing grin and added, “I won't tell your mom it you don't.”

 

Henry mimed zippering his lips as he watched his uncle leave.

 

Once David was gone, Henry tossed down the bridle he was holding and hurried out of the tack room. He briefly thought about visiting the horses, but decided against it as he didn't know how long he had until his uncle returned. The trip to the stable managers office was quick and once inside, Henry closed the door and tossed his jacket onto the cot that David kept in the corner. He moved behind the room's lone desk, pulled the scrap of paper with Emma's cellphone number out of his jeans pocked, and slid the old rotary phone towards himself.

 

_Ring._

 

_Ring._

 

_Ring._

 

_Ring._

 

“ _You have reached voice mail box number 1-3-7-5-3-3-8-4. If you would like to leave a message pleas-”_

 

Henry hung up and dialed again.

 

_Ring._

 

_Ring._

 

_Ring._

 

_Ring._

 

“ _You have reache-”_

 

The handset crashed back down to end the call.

 

“Come on Emma.”

 

He dialed once more.

 

_Ring._

 

_Ri-_

 

“ _Who is this?”_

 

“Emma?” She sounded angry. When she didn't reply, he added, “Emma, it's Henry.”

 

More silence.

 

Then.

 

“ _Kid? How did you get this number?”_

 

“Regina had it in her phone,” he answered. Another long moment passed without either of them saying anything. He tugged on the long cord attached to the handset, not sure how to proceed. Now that he was actually speaking with her, he forgot everything that he had wanted to ask.

 

“ _Look Henry, it's nice to talk to you but I-”_

 

“Are you in Storybrooke?” he blurted, worried that she was going to hang up.

 

“ _What? No, I'm back in Boston. I left last week”_

 

“Oh.” He really hadn't been expecting that. “I thought... We had an earthquake last night.”

 

“ _I know. We felt it a little bit here in Boston.”_ Pause. _“Is everyone out there in Storybrooke, okay? Mary Margaret? Your mom?”_

 

“Yeah, no one got hurt,” he answered taking a seat behind the desk. “But the clock tower collapsed. There was a picture of it in the paper. I tried to go see it today, but the street was all blocked off.”

 

He heard Emma laugh. “ _Yeah I bet. Just do me a favor and don't get to close to it. That's asking for trouble.”_

 

“I won't,” he assured her, though really, investigating the library was something he did want to do. If Emma wasn't back in town, then something else must have triggered the earthquake and if he wanted to figure out what that might be, then the library was the most likely place he would find an explanation.

 

But, first things first; he had to get Emma back into town. “You should drive back tomorrow. It's Halloween.” When he got no response, he added, “I'm going to be Peter Pan.”

 

It took her a while to answer. _“Nice kid. I bet you've got a busy day planned with school and trick-or-treating? Is your mom going to take you out tomorrow afternoon?”_

 

“She can't,” he replied quickly. “She's really busy with all the earthquake stuff.”

 

He felt bad lying to Emma, but if it got her to come back then it was worth it.

 

“ _Well maybe Mary Margaret then?”_

 

“You don't want to come with me?” He tried to sound as pathetically sad as possible. While his well practiced tactic of guilt tripping hadn't worked on Regina in several years, Emma had yet to experience it. He only wished she could see his sad puppy dog eyes.

 

“ _Ah. Kid, I'm really sorry, but I can't get away right now.”_

 

“What about later this week?” If he sounded desperate, it was because he was.

 

“ _I wish I could, Henry. I do. I really do. I just can't right now.”_ He did believed her, for all the good it did. _“But I promise, when I do head back, you'll be the first one to know, okay?”_

 

“Okay.” He frowned at the phone.

 

“ _Look Henry I have to go, but I'll talk to you soon. And hey, save some of that Halloween candy for me.”_

 

“I will.” Sigh. “Bye Emma.”

 

“ _I'll see you soon kid.”_

 

He held the receiver to his ear until that annoying buzzer kicked in, telling him that Emma had hung up. He dropped the handset back on the cradle and grabbed his jacket. Not really knowing what else to do, he wandered into the main stable to say hello to Lenny.

 

When he reached the stalls, the horse didn't seem particularly interested in seeing him. Henry held out an apple, but Lenny offered only a soft whinny before turning his nose at the treat. Dejected, Henry dropped the fruit back in the satchel he'd pulled it from and trudged back to the tack room to wait for David.

 

* * *

 

 

The rest of Henry's afternoon at the stable had been pretty uneventful. After lunch, David had helped him finish organizing the tack room and then they'd spent an hour feeding the horses before Henry had to leave for his therapy session with Archie.

 

He had just completed a session with the psychiatrist four days prior, but there was still plenty to talk about after the earthquake. Henry spent the hour playing tug of war with Pongo while peppering the dog's owner with questions like: 'If the earthquake started off the coast, how come there wasn't a Tsunami?,' 'Who thought up the Reichter Scale?,' and 'Was the library the only building that collapsed? Like what if the school was damaged? Shouldn't they cancel tomorrow, just in case?.'

 

A few times, the therapist had tried to steer the conversation to talk of the boy's fairy tale theory and how he was feeling, but Henry didn't really want to talk about that. He already knew that Regina had taken the book and he was pretty sure that Archie had been telling her everything that went on during their sessions. It was pretty disappointing to realize that Archie had betrayed him like that, particularly given the fact that he was Jiminy Cricket, but at the same time he knew that it wasn't really fair to ask him to stand up to the Evil Queen, especially when the man didn't even believe that he was cursed.

 

So, Henry spent their time avoiding Archie's questions by asking an endless stream of his own. When the hour was up, Regina picked him up and they returned home to a quiet (silent) dinner. Afterward, Henry retreated up to his room to clean up the mess left by the earthquake.

 

At some point during the day, Regina had been through to vacuum up all the broken glass, replace all the items on his bookshelf, and remove his ruined record player. While it was nice that he didn't have to do much cleaning, it annoyed him that his adoptive mother had been in his room when he wasn't present. He didn't tell her that though, not even when she opened his door, without knocking, just after 8 o'clock, because he was being, 'too quiet.' Whatever that meant.

 

He just ignored her and went about reorganizing his comic collection.

 

* * *

 

 

The next morning, much to his confusion, school had not been canceled. As a result, at 7:40am sharp, he found himself in the back seat of Regina's Mercedes, pulling up to the elementary school building. He would have preferred to ride his bike to school, but unfortunately, he had left it chained to a bike rack in Rockland. He didn't dare ask Regina to take him to retrieve it.

 

As soon as she put the car in park, his seat belt clicked open and he was opening the car door.

 

“Hold on.” She turned her body so that she could meet his eye. “I know you said you didn't want to dress up, but I've got your costume here anyway.” She reached onto the passenger seat and a few seconds later his riding duffel bag dropped onto the seat next to him.

 

“Fine.” He took the bag and moved to leave again, but she placed her hand on his shoulder.

 

“Hold on a second Henry. I'd like to talk to you for a minute.”

 

“I'm going to be late,” he argued.

 

“The bell doesn't ring for fifteen minutes. We have some time.”

 

“Not if I'm going to change.”

 

She sighed, “Henry this is what I want to talk about. You were avoiding me all last night. You've been distant the past few weeks. I just want you to talk to me.”

 

“Fine. Tonight we can talk.” He moved to leave again, but Regina tightened her grip.

 

“Henry, you can't just walk away from me when we're in the middle of a conversation. It's rude.” He could tell that she was getting annoyed, but he didn't really care.

 

“I have to go,” he said, not hiding his own building anger. He didn't want to talk to her. Not now, or during meals, or ever. He attempted to pull his arm away, but her grip only tightened.

 

“No, you're going to stay here and explain yourself.”

 

He pulled harder, using the seat for leverage to free himself. The move left her off balance, but she maintained her hold on him.

 

“Let go!” He might have yelled that.

 

“Henry!”

 

He felt her nails digging into the flesh of his arm, but he kept tugging anyway. “Stop!” he shouted at her. “You're hurting me.”

 

Those seemed to be the magic words, because immediately she released him.

 

After that, he didn't look back.

 

He ran away from her car. Away from the school. Away from everything. He didn't stop running until he reached his castle.

 

The splintered old wood of his fortress creaked and swayed as he climbed to his favorite spot, but in the end it held his weight just fine. Once settled, he stared out into the ocean, watching as each wave came crashing onto shore.

 

Henry sat like that for a long time before he heard someone calling his name over the gusting wind of the chilly, late October morning.

 

He knew who it was long before he felt the Sheriff's hand on his shoulder.

 

“Henry, you can't keep doing this.” Pause. “Come on lad, I'll take you to school.”

 

He didn't want to follow, but he did, because really, what else could he do?

 

[to be continued]


End file.
